The Awakening
by Nagareboshi Star
Summary: And on that fateful night, as the four-winged reptilian beast abducted his beloved wife, Stoick realised, he had taken his son too. In which Hiccup faces his destiny; it just took him a little longer to find. AU
1. Awaken

_**A/N: **I know I know, another story. I cannot help it, my inspiration is running rampant and this idea has been stuck in my head ever since I saw HTTYD2 and heard Valka's story of her "death". I think someone even pronounced the concept on tumblr. Anywho, began to write to see how things would go and now this story is getting ridiculously longer with every new chapter I write. So I thought, hey, why not submit and see what you guys think?_

_In general, the idea is simple: what would have happened if instead of just Valka, Cloudjumper had taken Hiccup too and alas, he grew up with dragons instead of Vikings? It's a twist of events, but do not fret! Toothless is still there, Hiccstrid is still there, a lot of elements from HTTYD 1&2 are still there, to be honest. Just, modified, changed, and I added some of my own flavour. So, I'll stop rambling now, enjoy._

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><p><strong><span>Awaken<span>**

_Swathing flickers of vicious flames curled around the gnarled remains of what was once a peaceful and merry village. Every now and then merciless dragons came to steal off of them what they could; provisions, resources, __**lives**__. _

_This deathly day demanded a sacrifice so grand that it burnt Stoick's heart, tore at his good will and allowed for an earth-cracking roar to leave his chapped lips. His fists smashed against the sooty wooden wall next to him, shaking the ground even more._

_Cackling and heat intoxicated the air, mixed with the clamours of frightened and courageous Vikings, all fighting for dear life. _

_The image of those four wings; batting with perfect synchronisation through the dusty air, creating distance between himself and his beloved isle of Berk. His wife, grasping desperately onto the claws that were wrapped around her. Then one hand was raised, reaching out as she called for Stoick, beautiful emerald eyes full of terror and angst. _

_Her other arm was tightly curled around a bundle of cloth and tender flesh. The bundle cried, ear-piercing wails dying the air in a sorrowful tune. _

_They had taken his wife._

_The beast had taken his wife._

_And his son right along._

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><p><em>Twenty years later...<em>

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><p>The fires raged with disgruntling contempt, licking and gnawing at the frail, wooden constructions that were dotted around Berk.<p>

Well, to be precise, Berk was _only ever_ wood and metal, and much more of the former than the latter. Which meant that barely anything was _not_ on fire.

The horrendous screech of bone-breaking roars and growls filled the smoke-ridden air, causing the young Viking warrior to fiercely clamp her ears shut.

"We need Water from the docks! The wells are nearly empty!" A Viking cried, most likely Edvin the fisher.

She gripped her axe more viciously, feeling the heavy weight of its length as it nearly reached to her boots. Right now, she was more than glad for the modifications she had requested from Gobber that morning. In the name of Odin, she needed them.

With a mighty cry, she hurled it into the air, striking what seemed to have been a Hideous Zippleback with the flat end. The right head smacked against the left, causing it to lose its aerodynamic balance and begin a crash-landing towards the ground.

Eager warriors were already awaiting it, tying it up with ropes, shouting and calling with glee.

A wicked smirk marred her facial features. She _never_ missed her target; long years of continuous, nerve-wrecking training had ensured that. She was not the best of her year and generation for _no reason_.

Not even the obnoxious, loud-mouthed Jorgenson boy could keep up with her stealthy agility and extreme battle skills.

"Fishlegs, to the docks!" She roared with authority as the chubby nineteen year old passed her by, frightfully wielding a sword and shield.

He nodded several times, waddling over towards the wooden platform that led down to the vast, churning oceans. At least, he hobbled and jolted over what was left of it, avoiding the angrily hissing fires that raged around every corner.

Astrid jogged on, professionally making her way through fighting and working Vikings, knocking the hilt of her beloved weapon against the skull of a Gronckle, then cracking the ribcage of an overly abominable Deadly Nadder that was about to snatch up some astray sheep.

_'Serves you right for trying to steal our goods!'_ she ground her teeth at the thought, continuing with the menacing battle.

As she waged onwards, her golden braid flipping around wildly, her eyes strayed towards the star-streaked sky.

Next to the endless curls of grey smoke which obscured any clear vision of the usually beautiful horizon, she was able to observe the one or other reptilian monster descend as it assaulted the people of her village.

But she was awaiting one particular guest.

Her ears were perked, carefully tuned to the high-pitched scream that would shudder through the air, inducing incredulous amounts of fear and anxiety into the hearts of a many Viking man and woman.

Yet it did not come.

Since five or six years, Astrid concluded with a delicate hint of disappointment.

Not that she liked to see her village torn up without much effort nor reason by the world's most dangerous known being; the unholy offspring of Lightning and Death itself. On the contrary; she was somewhat glad that the Night Fury had decided to finally leave her home town alone, searching most likely for other habitations to raid and terrify.

Yet her joy was limited; for the disappointment did not want to leave. _No one_, not even _Borg_ _the_ _Bold_, had ever managed to defeat this lethal creature. No one had ever survived an encounter with one, either. Which was the reason that no clear information were noted down in the Book of Dragons. Not even a sketch of the wicked beast.

But Astrid, clenching her fists with determination, wanted to do it. Be the _first_. _Kill a Night Fury_.

She would be so highly respected by her people; the chief himself would hand her the name of _Fearless Astrid Hofferson, the Night Fury slayer_. And who knew, maybe she would even become the next _chief_. They might bend tradition simply because of her glorious achievement.

However, her wondrous dreaming and plans were thwarted the day the black death stopped visiting Berk altogether. He was the _only_ dragon who raided for fun; without stealing _anything _at all.

And just as suddenly as he came and destroyed, he left, and never returned.

The whole island of Berk was more than elated when, after the seventeenth Night Fury-less attack, they assumed he was gone for good.

"_Maybe he was old and died. Or some other dragon got to him."_

"What a joke, that can't be true! Maybe he just got bored of wrecking Berk all the time."

"I'm sure he was frightened of me, the almighty Snotlout Jorgenson!"

The blonde had to gag at the last memory. _'As if.'_

But fact was, the brute had left indeed.

She felt nearly insulted; as if the winged reptile was not taking her serious enough as an enemy. Then again; how _was_ he supposed to, if they never faced off? Each and every time the screech of the Night Fury echoed throughout the sky, and the purple flames engulfed the buildings of Berk, she raced with all her might towards where she believed he would be lurking. Yet she always missed her chance. When Astrid lunged her axe, she missed. When she stood at the pier, believing to have recognized a shadow in the moonlight, bolas in hand, she missed. He was incredibly rapid, and departed before he even arrived.

Every failure angered her more and more.

_'Why are you not coming anymore!?'_ she internally roared, whacking a few Terrible Terrors away that dared to assault her, '_Is it true!? Are you bored of this village and have found new folk to pester?'_

The humiliation sat deep, but it could not be helped.

Finally, the burning flames were snuffed out by the Vikings as the raiders left; flying off into the morning with whatever stock they had managed to steal. The chief, Stoick the Vast, approached the centre of the town, covered in soot and cuts as well as bruises, but not as heavily as most other warriors around him.

From the corner of her eyes, Astrid recognized a rather sweaty Fishlegs approach, accompanied by the Twins and Snotlout, who spun his war hammer leisurely.

They were all battered and panting heavily.

It _had_, after all, been the seventh attack that _month_; they were becoming more and more frequent, which unnerved every villager to quite an extent. Especially the chief, even though he managed to hide his deep worry efficiently, for the sake of his men.

"Well done, people of Berk! Yuh have fought well! I am proud ta call yuh my own. Hoark, how much loss has there been?" He turned his head briefly to the side, where a bulky, limbs-missing Viking stood.

"About twenty sheep 'nd yak, me chief. Lotsa barrels of fish, sadly enough. We will have ta send out new fishing boats to make up for the loss."

Stoick nodded gravely, frowning, "As long as no Viking was lost in battle."

"No chief, no one today."

'_But you never know about tomorrow.'_ Astrid concluded with bitterness.

Her anger and hatred towards the dragons flared up anew, making her heart thump and her fingers itch with lust to kill every last one of their kind. So much loss, just because of those _fiends_ not getting enough.

"Well, we better rebuild as much as we can, and prepare for the next raid. I fear it won' take long for it ta come."

Behind the huge mountain of a chief came his right hand man, waving his hammer-hand in the air, "Yuh know, these attacks are just gettin' worse, Stoick. We should find the nest, and kill 'em once and fer all."

It was surprising to hear something like that from the lips of Gobber the Belch, a man who fought because he _had_ to, not because he _wanted_ to. He was a softy at heart, and just wished that the dragons would _leave_ them the way the Night Fury had.

Seemingly, he had had enough. After over three-hundred years of constant onslaughter, even calm-natured Gobber, who prized himself with his history, had hit his limit.

"I know, we will have a meeting in two hours at the Great Hall! There, we will discuss further plans."

With mostly demotivation ringing amongst his men, the Vikings turned to attend their new task; cleaning up Berk. Well, what was left of it.

"Astrid!" The rumbling call of her leader seeped into her ears.

Said girl turned to face him, observing his grim, determined expression.

"Yes, chief?" She spoke, stepping up to him. He was a good two metres tall, if not taller, and she felt terribly minuscule and weak in his presence.

"I want yuh to join us, at the meetin'." He spoke, eyes boring down into hers, voice having quietened a little, "Yuh are, by far, one of my best warriors, and I want you there." There was the tiniest hint of an approving smile crossing his lips before it disappeared.

Pride immediately began to swell up within Astrid as she did her best to suppress her overwhelming joy and eagerness.

"Yes of course, chief." She responded with her much-strained dignity.

The burly man turned and left. Astrid bit her lower lip with joy.

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><p>He strapped the prosthetic to his stump, twisting a coil, then clacking a flap back. Observing the metal replacement for a left foot more clearly, Hiccup grinned merrily, pleased with his accomplishment.<p>

It had taken him a good two years and several secret tricks taught to him by an old blacksmith back in the village of Looting Liars, before he perfected his forgery skills to its maximum, and managed to create a prosthetic that matched himself and his loyal companion.

"What do you say, Toothless? Wanna give this a try?" He stood up, scratching the scar and stubble on his chin.

The obsidian dragon warbled a little, chartreuse eyes peeking open to stare rather unexcitedly at his rider.

"Aww, come on, I promise _not_ to test out the flying suit this time. Just want to see how my new construction fits with yours." He patted his leg, then directed his hand towards the black painted piece of leather that sat strapped to Toothless' left tail-fin.

Shaking his scaly head, then begrudgingly getting to his feet as he stretched his large, bat-like wings leisurely, the dragon complied.

He warbled some more, lowering himself for the boy to climb aboard.

"That's the spirit." Hiccup adjusted the leather saddle he had created at the delicate age of fourteen (and readjusted with every growth spurt they both underwent) and clacked the prosthetic into place.

"Goin' for a ride, son?" Near the dreamy, viridian cliffs that overlooked a beautiful lake and roaring waterfall, his mother approached, a woven basket of fish in her arms.

She stepped up the small ascending that lead to the plateau Hiccup loved so much. From there, he was capable of overseeing the whole of the dragon sanctuary. Every flapping dragon and every caw was heard and seen.

"Testing out the new peg-leg, yeah." Hiccup grinned smugly. He was proud of his invention; despite the small bubble of envy he had due to the fact that his mother needed _no aid_ at all in flying Cloudjumper.

No saddle or anything; she was _that_ natural. He, on the contrary, found it impossible to stay on Toothless' back for too long without a comfortable seat underneath his rear. Hel, it had taken _three_ _years_ before he allowed himself to disband the attachment strap he usually connected to the front of his flying suit and the saddle. And only because he had enough expertise to _not_ fall off his dragon anymore.

Valka outstretched her hand, stroking the maw of the Night Fury with a smile, "And?"

He frowned upon her words, glancing at her face to see what she meant. But she had her jade eyes directed towards his dragon, affectionately patting him.

"And what?" He leaned back in his seat as Toothless bent his torso down, relishing the good scratch he was getting underneath his chin.

Valka laughed light-heartedly, "I know yuh, son. Yer'll be out there, scouting to find further dragons, _especially_ Night Furies." Finally, she redirected her orbs to glance at him with expectancy.

She knew how he'd respond; he was her _son_ after all.

Hiccup sighed, eyes cast towards the behemoth that currently slept with much peace at the bottom of the lake. Only his horns' tips and upper half of his gigantic skull protruded from the salty liquids.

"Hiccup..." Her hand now reached out to him, stroking his cheek with tender love, "Have fun." Was all she whispered before she turned and left, trudging towards the squawking mass of infant dragons.

The auburn-haired boy sighed deeply before he heard a wail from the reptile underneath him.

"Sorry bud, you're right. Let's go." The Night Fury jolted into the air, unfurling his grand wings and immediately gained altitude.

Within fractions of a second, the sanctuary beneath them grew into a tiny spot of battling colours, and the sky became vaster and vaster. Blues and reds intermingled, clouds decorated the thinning air, and the temperature dropped drastically.

His lungs burned, his skin tingled and his eyes watered.

Plunging a hand into the saddle bag he had attached to his dragon's leather construction, he grasped his helmet, pulling it over his head.

Then, he peeked towards the prosthetic tail-fin, scrutinizing the mechanism before he pressed the pedal down, allowing Toothless to twirl to the side before he dipped down towards the glittering oceans.

He bellowed with glee. Once more, he readjusted the pedal and felt the air tear lovingly at his gear. They accelerated, the wind roaring inside his ears despite the new protection he was wearing.

Mountains grew rapidly before they disappeared again. Whole landscapes swooshed past faster than Hiccup could count. Once more, he clicked the mechanism and performed a new stunt; Toothless somersaulting into a cloud, dashing with an almighty wail.

"Seems the prosthetic is just perfect!" He shouted, earning him a lifted right ear from his best friend.

Suddenly, Toothless flapped his wings and ascended again, before deciding to softly glide into the approaching sunset.

"There is still so much to discover, Toothless." the boy now whispered, grabbing his helmet and tugging it off. Soft, pinching breezes poked his cheeks, making them glow red. Nostalgia overwhelmed him without warning and he reconsidered his entire life up until this point.

Hiccup had spent a lot of time with diverse villagers in various places all around the northern hemisphere, and had observed their style of living. He had compared what he had seen with what his mother had told him about her prior life.

Whereas children slept curled up in the blankets of their beds, he was used to the wings of Cloudjumper or Toothless wrapping around him.

They stumbled and crawled towards their fathers; Hiccup stumbled and crawled towards a fully grown Gronckle. Mother's would teach their offspring how to talk and communicate like a Viking, but Hiccup learnt dragon language before his own.

They slaughtered and fought dragons, viewing them as their mortal enemies; he saw them as the heart-warming, loveable family they were to him.

"_It's a different world, theirs from ours, son."_ His mother had explained, placing a sympathizing hand onto his shoulder as he observed the curling flames in the horizon.

So many times he had wanted to intervene, to _show_ them just what dragons were _truly_ capable of; that they were _not_ mindless monsters, but beautiful beings with soul and heart. So many times he yearned to stop the onslaughter of man and reptile.

"_No point"_ Valka would always explain, a sorrowful expression in her eyes, _"I have tried, so many times. I always wanted to reason with yer father, with them __all.__ But they never listened."_

It was the only thing stopping Hiccup from seeking out this strange island known as Berk. To see where he had been born, and meet the tribe he was from; meet his _father_.

Were they anything alike?

_"You have his hair, and stubbornness."_ Was all his mother would ever tell him; she hated to talk about the past, _especially_ his father. It pained her too much, but she could never return; for _this_ was where she belonged.

She knew it. Cloudjumper had known it all those years ago. Hiccup understood.

A heavy sigh escaped his now chapped lips. Something tugged at his heart, and he felt incomplete once more. There was a part of him, he knew, that he had yet to discover. And it was not with the dragons. It was with the _humans_.

He remembered being at the forge with Skeggi the blacksmith - his wispy, grey beard reached until his mid-chest. The man of the Looting Liars had taught him all the skills a good forge-worker needed; Hiccup had disguised himself as a simple, fatherless child, wanting to be of use.

The old Viking would never admit it, Hiccup knew, but he was glad for the company; for a soul ready to listen to his old tales and endless teachings. The auburn-haired boy imagined that was what it would be like to have a father. Or at least a _grand_father.

From the workshop he observed a young boy playing 'Dragons and Vikings' with an equally aged child. They would fake roars, the _dragon_ hunting the _Viking_, who would run around, giggling with glee.

_His_ first friend had been an injured Deadly Nadder in the forests of Odin's Beard.

Then, a young woman entered the scene; her hair as dark as midnight, eyes a brilliant brown. She leaned down towards the boy pretending to be the warrior Viking and tugged at his arm.

"Come on, Bjorn, we need to go home. Mom's cooking dinner." Her voice was soft and flowing, with a hidden edge of strictness within it.

She could not have been much older than him.

"Observin' the ladies, me lad?" Skeggi would interrupt, hammering a shield on the workbench.

Suddenly flustered, Hiccup turned around, grasping a rusty old sword and inspecting it's condition more closely, "N-No!" he could not help it. He was a _terrible_ liar.

"Haha, ah yes. What wouldn't I give ta feel the beauties of a youthful heart again. But don't be too optimistic, ma boy. Yer not the most..._Viking_ of men, afta all." He laughed loudly, returning to his work.

Hiccup frowned. He was not _burly_, he understood that – his bodily shape was lean and modest, although he _did_ have muscles and strength. He did not sport a grim expression, despite his perfectly angular face and strong nose. Hiccup was well capable of wielding sword and shield (axe not so much) and he could run, despite his missing limb. But he was not the toughest and preferred to use his brains over his abs.

He rode a _dragon_, per usual, after all. Toothless fired menacing purple flames, and flew faster than any eye could observe. Together, they worked as a perfect team.

When angered, the young man could glower intimidatingly and he had a very persuasive nature, so his mother claimed. Yet his eyes were soft and rounded, containing a beautiful malachite hue.

"_Eyes like mine."_ Valka whispered once, stroking his cheek as she smiled adoringly, _"Yer father fell for those eyes."_ there was sarcasm as well as some tiny, hidden pride within her voice before she chuckled softly.

"I have a lot of raw Viking power within me, Skeggi; any woman could tell!" He heard the roaring laughter of his mentor, smirking himself as he carried the head of a hammer towards the grinder to flatten the edges.

"Yer are quite the catch, m'boy. Don't waste it on some flustered village lass." Hiccup's grin faltered, and he had to scowl in confusion, turning around and stopping in his doing as he watched the elder blacksmith disappear into the storage room.

Half of him had the inner desire to question that statement. The other half did not dare.

In those ten years of constant learning of blacksmithery, Hiccup understood one thing most clearly when dealing with Skeggi: you don't ask _too_ many questions. Not if you cherished your life.

The day Hiccup turned fourteen, however, was the day everything changed, and he started to use every knowledge about dragons his mother had taught him. It was the first time he had dared and lost as well as won. It was when he attempted to tame the untameable.

The Night Fury.

It was the day he met Toothless.

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><p><em><strong>AN: **So, a quick peek at how Hiccup got kidnapped too, then 20 years later a small insight on the life of Astrid and of Hiccup. If you WANT to read this, then it'd continue with Hiccup next chapter, the raw of it is written. But that depends on **you.** Do you want more? Yes? No? Just **review and tell me. **Thanks my beauties. PEACE. _


	2. Of Night Furies And True Love

_**A/N: **Hello my dears! First things first, you guys are **AMAZING!** I got quite some positive feedback for chapter one that I felt like you should totally get the edited second chapter today. I know I don't answer all reviewers all the time, probably because I am too flustered to say something and would just repeat myself. So here a big **THANK YOU** to every one of you who favourited and alerted and reviewed. **PLEASE** keep it going. Especially reviews. I'd love to hear from you all every chapter, to know you are reading this and it's worth the updates!_

_So, here you go, my lovelies. Enjoy chapter 2!_

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><p><span><strong>Of Night Furies And True Love<strong>

They had raided Berk ever since his mother had been but a young girl. As swift as lightning, tearing across the firmament without remorse, and without ever missing its target.

A powerful, proud winged reptile that destroyed simply for the pleasure in the act.

"_Not even I could find one, nor tame it."_ Valka had told her son, shaking her head miserably as they listened to the cries of villagers.

"_Night Fury!"_ they called in despair.

Hiccup was more than determined to change that. How would Vikings ever come to love and respect these elegant, immaculate creatures if they learnt nothing but contempt from them?

The dark beast came every fifth day to the village of the Looting Liars. Hiccup hid during every dragon attack – he did not want to observe the scenes of mayhem and death, nor be a part of it.

But he _did_ want to take a look at that Night Fury.

Several times he tried his best tracking skills, all kudos to his mother, but never was he capable of making out Night Fury marks anywhere. All he left behind were churning houses and dying men.

Then, using his knowledge in the field of forgery, Hiccup invented a genius little contraption with which he was capable of swinging bolas high into the air – he himself was physically incapable of that during his fourteenth year of living. The Gods had not blessed him with burly muscles but thin, nearly wispy limbs and bones.

And _Gods_, those bolas weighed a _tonne_!

Feeling pride swell up in his chest when he actually _shot it down_, Hiccup cheered loudly; _so_ loud that a Monstrous Nightmare behind him approached with a curious glare.

"Oh, wonderful..." glancing left and right, making sure no other Viking was near, Hiccup outstretched his hand, immediately gaining the attention of the beast, "Be a good boy, and _leave__._"

The dragon complied.

Hiccup left to find his Night Fury the next day, excusing himself at the workshop and from meeting his mother at the sanctuary. His usual flying companion, a Raincutter, was left to tend his own business. He had named it Sharpclaw, and loved the shimmering cobalt-painted guy, but could not really build a close bond to him. He had not, as his mother often pronounced, found his soulmate dragon yet.

He had often envied the bond between Cloudjumper and Valka.

Little did he realise that, when he found the downed dragon, noting with lament that he had torn off one of his tail-fins, he found his destiny.

A destiny he had _yet_ to discover.

Taming Toothless was far from an easy feat. Learning everything the Night Fury had to offer, gaining his trust, and then using what he had learnt from Skeggi to recreate a controllable tail-fin was what busied him at any given hour for the consecutive weeks. But it had worked out; despite the serious downward spiral it had threatened to take at the beginning.

He used every trick and movement of his hands that Valka had taught him to gain the dragon's trust. But the Night Fury did not fall for any of it.

At first, even, he had come much too close for the reptile's liking. The being had growled venomously, eyes forming thin slits as he crouched, ready to attack. Hiccup had only just freed him off his binding ropes and straight away attempted to placate the being; but not having had the chance to study a Night Fury up close, he used the wrong gestures, causing the dragon to shoot a hateful plasma blast in his direction.

It was way too fast for Hiccup to evade, and he was knocked unconscious.

When he awoke, he was back at the dragon sanctuary in his cot. He heard shuffling and saw his mothers lengthy brown hair sway before his vision.

"Careful, me boy." Valka whispered, placing a cloth on top of his forehead.

"What...happened?" He groaned, sitting upright.

When he finally managed to adjust his eyes to the brightness around him and glanced at his mother, he saw the dread and sorrow, mixed with anger twirl inside her orbs.

"Yuh were reckless, tryin' ta train a _Night Fury_." She was calm, yet he could detect the underlying rage she withheld.

"I nearly had him, mom, I swear-"

"_No_! Instead, yuh have _this_!" She shouted, pulling the blankets away and revealing to him his awful demise.

His left leg...it...it..._was gone!_

He gulped heavily, sweat accumulating above his brow, heart palpitating laboriously.

Where once there had been his foot, covered by a fur-lined boot, there now protruded a wooden dowel with a flattened end.

"He shot at yuh. Yer Leg was burned unrecognisable. Skeggi found yuh and fixed it, believing some lone dragon had crossed yer path and attacked. Yer Night Fury was gone." she tried to balance her temper, not wanting to lash out at her son again.

Hiccup swallowed, brows furrowing, "I did it wrong; he thought I wanted to _hurt_ him. I can do this _right-"_

"_NO_! Yuh will _not_ go anywhere _near_ him, have I made myself clear!?" Verdant eyes bore into his, angry brows creased as she glared.

He nodded meekly, shying back. Suddenly, the effect of the herbs he had taken earlier wore off, and the throbbing, pulsating pain of scarred tissue arose.

"Some dragons, son, need time. And others are simply not to be tamed."

Was it horrible he felt no bitterness in lying to his mother? When he went to search for the Night Fury, and indeed, did his best to tame him?

He had taken the dragon's ability to fly independently, and in return, the dragon had taken his leg. It was a fair trade to Hiccup. He simply felt no remorse. It just made him more _Viking_. What was it, after all, that Skeggi had said?

"_Real Viking men miss a limb at least, me boy!"_

Well then, was he not one of them, now?

The auburn-haired boy proved his mother wrong and befriended the now named Toothless (retractable teeth, Hiccup had to study that more closely...), readjusting and working on the fake tail-fin, measuring attachments here and there, and soon replacing his peg leg for a metal prosthetic that fitted the one of his winged companion.

Valka was both astonished and angry when she discovered her son had betrayed her; but seeing the sudden close bondage he had with Toothless; _feeling_ their friendship and mutual understanding was enough to forgive him. Never had he been any more determined than then.

He had found his soulmate dragon, just like he had always wanted to. And together with Toothless, Hiccup left no new island or dragon breed undiscovered – he found them all, and saved what could be saved from the clutches of carnage and bloodshed. He fought off marauders, battled dragon-trappers that occasionally crossed his path, and defeated a many pirate that dared to challenge him. Everyone came to fear and respect the _Black Rider and his Black Beast._

Hiccup did his best to always stay unknown. And just like his mother, who was nothing but a mystery or a goodnight-story told to children during the dark hours, he became somewhat of a legend.

His life was amazing; living with dragons, Toothless at his side, fighting for the goodness and rightness in this world, hoping that, one day, he'd convince Vikings around that dragons _could_ peacefully coexist with humans.

It was everything he ever desired in life.

Until _she_ entered his field of vision, and changed all he thought he had wanted up until then.

The first time, Hiccup had been twelve. It had been two years after he had announced to his mother that he wanted to learn more about the ways of a _true Viking_, to see where he came from, and ultimately, what he actually _was_.

He loved the dragons with such deep-rooted passion; they were his family, his everything. But he needed the change - needed new hobbies, and to interact with _people_.

Needed to be with _his kind_.

With much reluctance, his mother complied.

Of all the islands he had scouted and the villages he dared to take a closer look at, his curiosity drew him most strongly to the Isle of Looting Liars. Of course, there was this inner, demanding desire to explore his home, Berk. Meet the people his mother had grown up with, see what she had recounted numerous times with his own eyes.

But that would also demand him to face his father, eventually; and despite him not knowing _who exactly_ his father was, he had a nagging feeling that he would be able to recognize the man one way or another, eventually. The fear was too strongly inside him, and yet he yearned to know _more_. But he knew his mother would most likely not approve.

So, instead, he decided for the Looting Liars. Why? Simple; their blacksmith, Skeggi, had once been a Berkian, but moved out when he became too old for fighting dragons.

"_The Berkians are stubborn people! Don't want ta move, no matta how many times they gotta rebuild those houses 'cause of dragon fire."_ He once complained, waving his hands in the air.

He had been the teacher of Gobber the Belch, he proudly declared, _"A curious young lad who lost two limbs much too early, but is with a good heart. And a good hammer."_

He need not dread Skeggi recognizing any similarities with his father, either, or his mother. The man was half blind. How he managed, despite it all, to work on swords and axes without so much as a blink was a mystery to even Hiccup.

Feeling as close to his actual heritage as was possible, Hiccup indulged in blacksmithery, soon discovering that he enjoyed and actually excelled in it. Since he had been a young boy he loved to sketch and draw; taking dragons for his first motives, then many failed attempts at his mother, and several scribbles of landscapes and scenery. Now, he used his artistic talents to create blueprints for new inventions and improved mechanisms. Some, Skeggi would acknowledge with a grunt, others, he would chuck into the flames.

"_Waste of time, me boy."_ He had declared, shaking his head.

It was harsh learning under the old burly man, but beneficial nonetheless. He began to interact with fellow Vikings who all desired resharpened weapons or new gadgets. Despite his repulsion towards war and mayhem, he enjoyed the refining of armoury, much to his personal irony.

And he got to communicate to beings other than scaled animals or his mother.

That was when he realised just how flustered he became around girls. They were increasingly harder to handle, and he was so awfully shy, always stuttering and stumbling.

"_Not the most Viking of men, ey?"_ Skeggi once teased.

Blushing madly, Hiccup continued to pedal the grinder. _That_ was when his mentor announced he was to return to Berk to see to a few endeavours, and would be willing to take the young toothpick of a man with him.

"_Not without the approval of yer mother, first!"_ He said, waving an axe in front of Hiccup.

His heart drummed maddeningly at the thought of the discussion that would ensue. He was not to be disappointed.

"_Mom, it's not long, I just want to see where-"_

_"Yer a fool! Yuh think they will welcome yuh with open arms and accept that yuh've bonded with dragons!? No, they won't! I have tried too many times!"_

_"But mom, I just want to learn their ways. Maybe, if I study them more closely, I can-"_

_"They are not some reptile yuh can study, son! They are stubborn, hard-hearted idiots who will neva change!"_

Tears glistened in her eyes, and Hiccup hesitated. But he was not prepared to give up. After a lot of hot debating and argumentation, he managed to convince her.

"_Mom, I have to do this. I need to know where I'm from."_

His mother sighed with frustration.

"_Alright. Go. But don't hope fer too much." _He could tell the incredible hesitancy she had in letting him go. He also saw a glitter of pain jolt around her heart.

But he was only going to stay for _two_ _weeks_, Skeggi promised.

What a nervous wreck he was during the boat-trip. The tumultuous sea did his stomach no well, and he missed flying on the back of a dragon, preferably Sharpclaw, or maybe the Typhoomerang he had discovered and tamed just the other week.

When the lights of Berk peeked up in the horizon, and Skeggi bellowed with glee, Hiccup jerked upright, large emeralds gazing wondrously at the sight. Berk was, indeed, an incredible place. Beautiful, shimmering with young buildings and bustling people, all merry and eager in their doings.

"Stay close, m'boy, or yuh'll get lost, small and frail as yer are." Hiccup stumbled behind the bulk of a man, hobbling and treading along.

Soon, they stopped at what appeared to be a very similar workshop to the one on the island of Looting Liars.

"Skeggi!" He heard the bellow of a Viking, and suddenly a broad blonde man waddled towards his mentor, a hammer replacing his right hand, which he shook vehemently.

They both clapped hands, grinning, before they bantered on about old Viking stories and how rough both of their lives were. Hiccup mindlessly kicked a few shingles at his feet, waiting for their talk to end.

_That_ was when he saw her; she was maybe a little taller than him, not much, and wore metal pauldrons to appear more masculine. Her golden hair was braided down her back, a fringe covering the right eye as she trudged through the market place, an axe in hand.

His eyes were transfixed on the sight; consuming every detail of her appearance as his mouth gradually opened, leaving him gawking. She was, by far, the _prettiest_ girl he had _ever_ seen. To his utter delight, she turned around, seemingly glancing behind her.

And despite the grim expression she wore, her lithe figure held as if she were a man, he admired her beauty and stature. Her face was soft and rounded, freckles neatly sprinkled across the bridge of her button nose. And then her eyes; a miraculous mixture made out of the deepest depths of the oceans, and the skies, and some of Sharpclaw's awfully mesmerizing scales when he shed some.

"Hiccup!" The booming voice of Skeggi had hurled him out of his reverie, and the young boy came face to face with the gruff looking former student of his teacher.

"Hiccup, y'say? I see why they called him _that_." The man laughed, "Well, will be nice spendin' some time with yuh, lad. Oh, did yuh know that the chief's son was also called-"

He tuned out, observing the beautiful blonde again as she strode from one stand to the next, then turned and left down the pathway towards the Mead Hall.

He was smitten.

* * *

><p>In those two weeks, he learnt as much as he could about the mysterious youth with the azure eyes.<p>

She came by once, bringing in an axe that needed sharpening, her voice cold and sharp. Skeggi handed him the item, much to Gobber's chagrin, who ended up positively surprised when he saw Hiccup sharpen it with expertise.

Returning it to the elder Viking, he stood back, fumbling with his now task-less fingers.

"There yuh go, Astrid. As good as new."

"Thanks." She replied without a smile, leaving after she paid her debt.

_'Astrid..._' Hiccup peeked above the workshop's window, his gaze trailing after her.

"Look at that, someone's smitten."

He flipped around, a blush creeping up his cheeks as he watched Gobber laugh and grin, his stone tooth protruding.

"Ah yes, she'll be a Valkyrie one day." Skeggi replied as he hammered along.

"Oh yuh old fool, yuh can't even see her properly! Don't talk gibberish!"

Hiccup smiled, dimples decorating his cheeks. _'She sure will be...'_

The next encounter he had with the young Viking girl named Astrid was when Skeggi had given him the day off. He was to explore the secrets of Berk, and look around what _true_ Vikings were made of.

"Maybe some of it will rub off on ya!" Skeggi bellowed with a laugh, waving a sword in his hand which he currently attempted to repair as much as possible.

Taking the chance by its hilt, Hiccup bolted right out of the workshop, chasing along the pathways that led through Berk, taking in the diverse scents and sights that greeted him.

Lucky enough as the Gods wanted to deem him, no dragons had attacked up until then during his stay.

He could only hope it would stay that way.

Just as he turned a corner, nearing the borderline of the forests, he heard the steady _thump_ of a blade hitting bark. Curious, he twisted his head around, pursuing the sound, until he stood a good few feet away from the very person which had coaxed out his affection and astonishment.

She was twirling her axe within her hands, chucking it against a lone tree before she tore it out, returning to her prior position to repeat the act.

With glittering orbs he observed her in her doing, so fascinated that he did not realise he was suddenly being surrounded.

"What're you starin' at, kid?" He jumped from the sudden invading voice, eyes large and shocked.

Behind him there stood a young boy, most likely his age, although the rapidly growing muscles and broad shoulders might deem him two or three years older. That is, if Hiccup had actually _looked_ his age.

Next to him, grinning mischievously, were what seemed to be twins. Two blond haired kids, one male and the other female, and a pudgy, slightly nervous, yet overly large boy, jittering behind them.

"Never seen you around here." The boy continued to speak with a sneer in his tone, "Not from this village, right?"

Oh what irony lay within the question.

"Erm...no." Hiccup replied meekly, earning him a chuckle by the child and his blonde companions. The weighty one stayed mute, just nodding in approval.

"Snotlout. That's my name. Remember it well, for it's the name of the next chief." He nodded self-appreciatively, the others snickering behind his back.

"I wouldn't assume that just yet, Snotlout." There it was; the soft, curling voice of his Valkyrie (if you ignored the contempt she currently possessed.)

"Oh hey, Astrid! Look what I found; some astray kid that came to visit and see the wonderful village of Berk."

"Yeah, and what did he find? Your yak-face." She stood beside Hiccup now; her proximity causing him to tremble slightly, red hues tainting his cheeks, "Not the best first impression."

The twins began to howl with laughter behind Snotlout, slapping their knees and wiping tears from their eyes.

"Good one, Astrid!" The blonde male exclaimed.

The mocked boy obviously despised the sudden humiliation he was put under, and began to frown, "Yeah? Well..shut up, Astrid!" He balled his fists, before he turned his attention back to Hiccup.

He could not help a gulp.

"Look out, you scrawny peasant, if I see you anywhere in _my_ area, you'll _regret_ having ever stepped on this island!"

He spun on his heel and darted off, the other children following in amusement.

The auburn-haired boy was shocked; he had done _nothing_ to earn himself the despisement of this young Berkian, but he had obviously received it.

"You're that apprentice from the forge, right?" Astrid now questioned, although it was more of a statement.

He bobbed his head up and down nervously.

"Stay away from him." Her eyes now collided with his, and his breath hitched uncontrollably.

If she had noticed it, she did not let it on, for the girl turned around and busied herself with axe-throwing once more.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **So I invented the tribes-name of Looting Liars, because it randomly came to me, and I like it. Go figure._

_So yeah, Hiccup tames Toothless! And meets Astrid! Wehey!_

_Slight twist of events here – I literally tweaked things from the first movie, also making the opposite happen in the case of Toothless attacking Hiccup. I thought that, with Hiccup growing up amongst dragons, he would have too much confidence believing he could tame a Night Fury just like he tames other dragons. Instead of being fearful and backing away as in HTTYD, he approaches and thinks it'll work out, scaring Toothless in the process who feels insecure. It's the same kind of stubbornness he actually has, just, ironically maybe, with different motivation. And so instead of not attempting to kill Hiccup, as he expected in HTTYD, he DOES attack, as Hiccup did NOT expect in this AU. Turning the tip around, I guess. I wanted Hiccup to have lost his leg, also, because it is an important symbol of bonding between him and Toothless, just I did not want the whole fighting Red Death to have happened (yet?) Everything I did not mention about their bonding and stuff is literally the same as it occurred in the movie – you'll be able to fill in the gaps. So I hope this makes sense to you, sometimes I suck at explanations. Feel free to inquire, I will answer any questions you have :) _

_ Oh, and for all of you who know Star Fox Adventures from Nintendo will understand where the name Sharpclaw came from._

_ Don't forget to **review**, my darlings! I wanna hear what you think right now, even if it's just a word. Please do it, it'll warm my heart up! ***sends you night fury shaped cookies***_


	3. Wingless

_**A/N: IMPORTANT:**__ You guys are just the best. I cannot believe the feedback and positive response I am getting for this AU. I am so glad you guys actually like it! It honours me a lot, and __**please, **__**keep it up**__. The __reviews__ are encouraging and they with every favourite and alert make my fingers tingle with the need to write. __**KNOW THAT I LOVE YOU ALL! **_

_The first two parts of this chapter were actually supposed to go with the previous chapter, but my document was jumbled up and in the end I missed it. I'm sorry, it's only like, three pages, so I hope it does not disrupt the flow of this chapter._

_Speaking of which; you will notice that the third part is written slightly different and it might irk you. The reason is that it's from __**Toothless' **__**perspective;**__ all of you who have read my __**Taste Of Spring 3-Shot**__ will know what I'm doing here. All of you who have not; more information at the end. Just know that Toothless __describes things differently to us humans__, thus there will be terms and phrases written to replace other words. These have been __'__highlighted__' with __capitals,__ so it should not be too confusing. I have made it pretty obvious what they mean, but nonetheless I have posted a small dictionary at the end of this chapter, just in case._

_Now enough with my rambling; enjoy!_

* * *

><p><strong><span>Wingless<span>**

It had been the first proper experience in Hiccup's life to fall under the scrutiny of people other than his mother or Skeggi. Well, scratch the former, for she was a lot more understanding than anyone else.

His contact with other Vikings was held to a limit whilst working in the forge; but now, on Berk, with so many more (expressive) Vikings around (the island of Looting Liars was not even half as grand) and Skeggi granting him some more freedom, it became a new aspect of life.

Humans could be mean.

On the contrary to dragons, who, once you had gained their trust and undeniable friendship, were always high-spirited when they saw you, humans had a hostility in them Hiccup had yet to adjust to. It seemed like they did not only enjoy fighting dragons, but also _each other_. They would swing their axes or maces, curse and roar, mock and jibe.

Especially Snotlout had taken a liking to destroy ever fragment of good mood Hiccup woke up with every morning during his two week stay.

"You're not a real Viking; _real_ one's have muscles and are capable of swinging a hammer without panting like they just ran a marathon."

_'Not like I __want__ to be one of you, anyway!'_ Hiccup would think with a frown, directing his view towards the dirty ground. He was a child of the dragons, his mother had often pronounced proudly. No one before him ever had had the privilege of growing up the way he did, of feeling and knowing and _understanding_ the reptilian creatures the way _he did_. Speaking with a Deadly Nadder was _so much more_ enjoyable than talking to a mutton-headed Viking brat, anyway. Even though Hiccup felt like he was never really, truthfully being understood by his winged family. There was just _something_ always missing.

And whilst Berk fascinated him; the sheer art and skill in the sturdily built houses, the grand glamour of the Great Hall, with all its beautiful details and colours, the smell of thousands of mesmerizing foods and cheerfulness that generally inhabited Berk, its people were everything else.

Stubborn, just as Skeggi had foretold, and hard-natured. Grisly and glum, ferocious during battle, with names that did nothing to compliment them in any good way.

He guessed he fitted amongst the crowd what the last thing concerned.

"_Mom, why Hiccup?"_

"Pardon?"

"Why did you call me Hiccup? Could you not have called me something more endearing? Like, DragonChild, or, or, MasterRider or-"

But all she did was chortle amusedly, _"Oh Hiccup._ _Hiccup.__ That name suits yuh just perfect. Yuh started as a Hiccup, but yer so much more now. And people who know yuh will see it, too." _

"_But no one knows me..."_

"They will, give it time."

In her words he found the secret, desperate, buried hope that maybe, _maybe_ Hiccup would be able to achieve the unachievable.

Bring peace between humans and dragons.

And ever since that day, he was more than willing to work towards that goal. He had to. He owed it to every living being in this world.

* * *

><p>When the first dragons assaulted during a raid in those two weeks, Hiccup was more terrified than he had been during a thunderstorm and a feisty attack by a Skrill when he had been the meek age of five.<p>

Everything _burnt_, and despite all the others seeing wrath and hatred in the eyes of Vikings and dragons alike, Hiccup could tell the sheer misunderstanding that truthfully existed.

But there was _something_ else, too.

He ran towards the exit of the forge, only to pulled back by his tunic.

"Oh no yuh don't!" Gobber warned, glowering down at him, "Toothpicks are not ta fight dragons. Let the real Vikings do that."

He watched angrily as dragons were downed, screams echoed across the landscape and the war reached its climax. Never had he experienced anything more horrifying. So disgruntling, he dared not remember too many details, for he feared his sanity might play tricks on him then.

When they returned to the island of Looting Liars after the fortnight, Hiccup ran back to the outer forests, where he called upon his Typhoomerang and flew back to the sanctuary.

He was not to be seen near Skeggi's forge for at least three weeks.

"_I told yuh not ta expect too much, son." _Valka had stroked through his hair softly, trying to soothe away his woes.

He stayed within his makeshift cot, leaving only after the first week to interact with his beloved dragons again. When he returned during the fourth week to the forge, Skeggi was unsurprised.

"There yuh are. Thought a dragon had nibbled yuh away."

Wordlessly, Hiccup returned to his work.

* * *

><p>They landed at what seemed to be a clearing; just on a slanting hillside. Tall Green, or <em>trees,<em> sprouted from the earth's rough, sturdy surface, forming an oval like shape covered with edgy rocks. Glancing down the hill, Toothless saw the grand, Vast Sparkle, or _ocean_, as Wispy Wingless liked to call it.

"Well then, bud, here we are. Wanna take a rest before we continue searching?" The warming hand of his rider caused a pleasant grumble to leave his maw, indicating that he indeed was content with that plan.

For months they were searching for other specimen like him, and Toothless felt truly understood by Wispy Wingless. His rider stopped at nothing to help his companion find those he belonged to; the _other_ Black Scales, like himself. How long had it been since Toothless last saw one of his kind?

So long that he barely remembered, no matter how hard he tried. It was all just a blur and a fuzzy feeling somewhere in the back of his conscience.

What he _did_ remember, however, was the day he had first met his Wispy Wingless. The incredible fear he had felt, facing the obscene creature. He was so pale, and smooth with random patches of fur here and there. His limbs were frail, but long, and he _had no wings_.

Granted, there were _other_ beings without wings. Such as the Big Softs and the Little Softs, which mooed and bleated respectively in their own tongue. But those were food. Wispy Wingless was...was..well, he was a Wispy Wingless, at least to Toothless.

There were others, like his rider, without wings, but not nearly as _wispy_.

And even though he looked like nothing more but an oversized Soggy Scale (or _fish,_ as Wispy Wingless liked to put it), easy to squish between his mighty jaw, he feared him. He had seen the Wingless' do their fair share of murder; they saw themselves as the sworn enemies of all dragons, had been for as long as Toothless could remember.

Somewhere, the back of his mind pulsated, recalling a devastating memory involving agony and loss, being the basis of contempt towards the Wingless in Toothless' life

Wispy Wingless seemed no different, what with his Sharp Shiny glinting within his hands, and the Twisted Tails that he had captured him with. They were gnawing at his sturdy scales, digging into his flesh mercilessly. Everything was painful and frightening and loud as well as clear. All the noises, all the movements, all the scents that wafted through the air. The feeling of defeat that Toothless had never before experienced; _always_ did he hit his target. _Never_ had he dreamt of _being_ the target for once.

And then to be caught by something so minuscule and unimportant as _that_ in front of him.

Tall Green extended around him, rocks patched with verdant substance and a stone face climbed up jaggedly behind them.

Between it all, his tail throbbed menacingly; he knew that when he had crashed at an unholy speed through the Tall Green, _something_ went _rip_ and he was missing an important part of his dragonesque anatomy. Something that need not bleed to tell him with certainty that it was a terrible loss.

_And this Wispy Wingless was to blame._

Anxiety mixed with deep-rooted loathing upon the sight of his demise. He could do nothing to strike back with one last attempt at revenge; he had to watch the being of his nightmares approach, determination plastered all over his face.

_Go on, kill me_...Toothless had thought, _bring honour to your stupid race. _

His eyes, forming charcoal slits, focused on those emeralds of the Wingless. They glistened and glittered with colours and shapes Toothless had never seen with anyone else before. No dragon contained such intricate hues. But it was not the artistry of the iris that had him entrapped; it was something _else_.

Wispy Wingless...he _saw_ him. Saw Toothless differently than any other Wingless ever would. Saw something that Toothless himself could see, but did not understand right at the moment. All the black dragon could concentrate on was the resonance of his thundering heart and accelerating pulse. He trembled with life. Wispy Wingless, despite the reluctance and understanding that seemed to glitter somewhere in those peripherals, meant to _end_ it.

But he was surprised to find the being cutting at the Twisted Tails with his Sharp Shiny, freeing him from his death-trap.

Then, he began to wave around his limbs, walking in a rather peculiar manner. Toothless knew the Wingless was trying to convey some strange message, most likely even attempting to explain that he came with no ill intentions, yet hatred took over the moment he was free.

A gush of horrid memories flooded him; something about Black Scales being slaughtered, perishing by the very claws that this_ barbarity_, no matter how lanky he was, waved through the air as if it were completely normal and harmless. Claws that had held a Sharp Shiny threateningly poised at his body.

Wispy Wingless approached much too rapidly, as if they were comrades, as if shooting him down the heavens was _not _a crime, as if the terrible loss of his left tail-fin (yes, he had now pin-pointed the sources of his agony) were _not_ his fault.

Out of pure instinct and extreme, boiling resentment, Toothless shot.

And raced off the moment the burning fire left his maw.

All he could think about was attaining as much distance between himself and the Wingless as was physically possible. Every attempt at rising into the heavens proved futile; the loss of his tail-fin chained him to the grounds. He would have winds pick him up just to drop him dejectedly again – he could not balance out, his body twisted left, spiralling into the dirt.

Frustration and anger began to churn, frothing and screaming inside his head. He quickened his pace, legs carrying him in a blur forward through the dense forest. Suddenly, he stumbled, staggering across rocks and gnarled vines from the Tall Greens, barrelling down a sloping, rocky hillside until he landed in a tiny cove.

There was barely any space; a Tall Green not far off, mud all around him, a joking patch of Wet to his right with boulders sticking out, covered in the obscene-tasting jade texture. He would take five normal strides and reach the end of it all. Around him, however, circling like a threatening trap were smooth, green slabs that curled to lean above his figure, looming darkly.

Toothless' nose flared, he returned to the spot where he had tumbled down and jolted with all his muscle-power, clambering up the rubble back into the forest, but found himself losing his hold and crashing back into the cove. Shadows crept across him; he was imprisoned.

The Wet was empty of any aquatic life to please his stomach, each and every time he attempted to escape he was chucked back down to the ground with pain and grievance at his heart. Crying out several forlorn times, the dark-scaled creature had to accept his intolerable fate. He, the almighty hunter of the night, the one who never missed his target and who followed no laws or rules set by anyone; who destroyed out of pleasure and always won, had lost.

He wailed and wailed, awaiting his demise.

Yet fate had something entirely different planned for him; and soon, he discovered, life the way he knew and loved it would change.

Toothless did not expect to see Wispy Wingless again, soon after, with something looking like part of a Tall Green sticking out of his left leg. Obviously his shot had not killed (Toothless' pride did not allow for him to blame it on the sheer nervousness he had had) but only wounded.

_Serves him right..._ He knew this Wingless was responsible for the deprivation of his flying capabilities; who else would shoot down a Black Scale and approach it hence after? He felt edgy again, and insecure. Why had he returned? Had he not learnt his lesson with the loss of his leg – had Toothless not made it clear that nearing him meant death? Despite it all, he had come, yet what he _wanted_, though, Toothless did not know. Something. He desired _something_.

It only occurred later to him that it was friendship. When he placated the obsidian beast with a rather delicious Soggy Scale and calm words, with careful steps and warming feelings, with forgiveness and hope.

He visited him daily, feeding him, staying despite Toothless' best attempt to keep several metres of distance. After Toothless kindly regurgitated a Soggy Scale for him as a reward, he pulled his maw up in a peculiar manner, revealing his teeth – yet unlike in dragon language, it was not a threat but a symbol of friendliness. And when Wispy Wingless began to draw with a small stick from a Tall Green in the accumulating dirt, Toothless got curious.

It had been the first time he allowed the small, frail being to touch him with his blunt claw – feeling no contempt nor pain nor ill intentions.

Toothless had to admire Wispy Wingless for his relentlessness. As they worked on their communication, on their _bond_, he came to see what Wispy Wingless truthfully felt.

No anger nor hatred due to his missing limb. Just _understanding_.

_I took yours, you took mine_.

All he wanted was trust, and bondage. He was just as alone in this world as Toothless had been; searching for the right place to go and stay, for the home that never appeared. Despite being surrounded by hundreds of Wingless', or in Toothless' case, dragons, he was one of a kind, travelling amongst the world in solitude. What had once been an utter source of wrath and despisement suddenly morphed into something warm and new and exciting whilst also being so entirely thrilling and intimidating.

That was why he forgave Wispy Wingless, and befriended him. He began to trust him; for he saw himself, just the way he believed Wispy Wingless did too. Whatever powers had caused the dragon to be hit and plummet down on that fateful night, losing his left tail-fin to this Wingless was worth it. For now, it bound him to his Wingless – who ultimately became his rider. Flying had never felt this way before; _life_ suddenly had a new purpose.

Now, it felt like a bond existed between them that, in all his life, Toothless would never have dreamt to possess. He was his Wingless; little and feeble, now taller and a somewhat stronger, but still so _wispy_.

They flew, and his rider always played an important part in flying with him. The construction he had created, after all, that replaced his tail-fin, could only be controlled by Wispy Wingless. Toothless wanted it no other way; they depended on each other. Wispy Wingless could be sure that, whatever happened, Toothless would come to save him; would always protect him.

For he knew his Wispy Wingless would do the same.

Suddenly, all anger towards the Wingless' tribe was forgotten. Only his friendship with Wispy Wingless counted, and their adventures and missions together. Their battles against foes, both dragon and not, as well as their seemingly endless journey trying to discover other Black Scales. With every day that passed, they understood each other more, a connection forming that could never be destroyed.

The Endless Shifter began to morph again; the beautiful teal colour it primarily contained now dipping into its mesmerizing oranges and ambers and maroons, painting the world a miraculous, warm shade.

Toothless enjoyed these late hours, when the intensity of the Large Hot faded, but still existed, tickling his scales, warming his flesh, making him feel content and relaxed. Flying underneath it, enjoying the change of scenery, the whiplash of wind and moisture was simply priceless. Wispy Wingless would whoop and cheer, and Toothless would grunt and warble along.

They had a mutual understanding in everything they did.

"Over there was the island of Freya's Cot. Maybe we'll find some indications there. What do you say, bud?" The funny, nasal voice of his rider called him out of his reverie.

A growl was the response, and with a tender smile (Toothless practised tweaking his lips up just like Wispy Wingless, although it proved to be a strange and tiring act) his rider patted his thick neck, and thus called for them to become airborne once more.

* * *

><p>The meeting had been brief.<p>

Although the main topic was the discussion about the increase of dragon raids, and what to do about it, the Vikings were rather reluctant. No one seemed prepared to face _all_ of the dragons at once on _unknown_ territory; territory which still had to be _found._ Vikings had tried to discover the secret of the winged reptiles since the day they first set sail, yet had always been unsuccessful. And on that particular endeavour, many lives were sacrificed.

The tribe of Berk did not know what would change _now_, with their generation, to at all aid them in revealing the dragons' dark secrets and destroying their existence once and for all, ensuring peace to every Viking tribe. If three-hundred years of relentless searching produced no final results; not even a _hint_, then what hopes did the Hairy Hooligans have?

"We'd come back with less men, an' less goods, an' destroyed vessels." One Viking argued.

"But we cannot keep goin' like this. It ain't a life!" Another threw in.

Fists smacked the tables, voices rose above one another, maces and axes were swung threateningly, but no true conclusion came out of the debate which Stoick ended as quickly as it had begun.

"Enough already!" His strong, reverberating voice boomed across the entire hall; probably even _all_ of Berk heard him roar like an infuriated Monstrous Nightmare, "We shall decide on a crew of men who will join me on my voyage ta find tha source of these...these _brutes_. So that we may exterminate them, once an' fer all. Tha rest will stay here and train together with tha warriors of tha Looting Liars."

Further arguments broke out the moment the chief stopped his talk.

"Tha Looting Liars? Why them? What does Berk want with those guys?"

"Their village is _tiny_ in comparison to ours! They are no help!"

"I'd rather train with tha Liars than go an' find tha dragon nest. It's hopeless, if yuh ask me."

Astrid observed as the stress built up on Stoick's face, his patience running thin as his almighty fist balled together all the more tightly. The protruding muscles of his arms were flexing incredibly.

"We have made an agreement with tha Looting Liars" The chief once more bellowed, causing all other men to shrink back, jolting and falling silent immediately, "Berk has, by far, tha best fightin' skills and trained men. We will train their warriors so that they can defend themselves betta against those monsters. That way, we can also help out each otha. Their village might not be grand, but they have capable Vikings. One of their men will be enough to represent five standard Viking warriors, once fully trained."

Some mumbling and muttering followed, but no one seemed to object. The deal had been made, anyway, and Stoick was their chief. He knew what was best for Berk. At least, everyone expected that from him.

"We will now discuss who will travel and search fer tha nest, and who will stay 'ere and teach our guests in one week time."

Astrid had high hopes to be a part of Stoick's personal team of warriors that would go out to destroy the source of all sleepless nights. He had said, after all, that she was his most formidable fighter; so she would be most suited to eradicate the lair of the dragons. There was, actually, barely a doubt in Astrid's conscience that Stoick would take her along. Only the _best_ should dare to face off with _all _of the dragons. And maybe, if she was lucky, the Night Fury was there too. She would be able to attain her much desired glory.

"Astrid!" He called her out of her reverie, causing the young girl's cerulean eyes to focus on him.

"Yes, chief?" Her tone of voice was balanced, despite glee threatening to spill over and consume her at the mere thought of the obsidian-scaled reptile.

"I want yuh ta stay 'ere with the others I just mentioned. Yuh shall train tha Lootin' Liars once they arrive."

It felt as if someone had chucked an ice cold bucket of sea water on top of her. Or smacked her into the face without her even believing it to be possible.

_He wanted her __here__!?_

Her heart sank incredibly, but she forbade herself any open display of emotions. That would just be as un-Viking as it could get.

"Of course, chief." She replied with as much dignity as she could cram together.

And just as speedily as the people of Berk had gathered, they dispersed, and Astrid saw herself near to alone in the Great Hall.

Thousand thoughts swirled within her mind, doubt now nestling inside her. Why had he not chosen her to accompany him on the journey? Was she not good enough in his eyes? But had he not claimed otherwise, mere hours ago? Did he believe her not to be able to stand all the mayhem? The countless weeks of journeying?

"Astrid, you comin'?" Fishleg's meek voice called from near the entrance, where he lingered, glancing over his shoulder.

She turned towards him, "What?"

"We want to discuss training plans for our guests. At the training grounds." He explained, frowning. Astrid was usually not so aloof.

"I'll come in a while..." She muttered, scowling herself as she turned back towards the main table in the hall, where Stoick still arranged some papers he had had earlier on.

Shrugging, the chubby boy left, shutting the door as silently as possible. Which still sounded ear-shuddering.

"Chief?" Her courage had come bubbling to the surface and poured down into her voice before she could properly contemplate how to approach the topic.

The large man averted his eyes briefly towards her, signalling his undivided attention. Her mouth opened curtly, just to slam shut again. She began to gape like a fish, her eyebrows furrowing tightly. _'You are a Viking! Show some bravery!'_

"Why did you not-"

"Choose ta take yuh with me on tha voyage?"

His calm, serene termination of her sentence caught her flabbergasted. She stood straight, observing him with her large orbs. After several seconds of silence, she nodded.

And after another amount of seconds Astrid did not bother to count, he finally responded, "Astrid, I understand that yuh feel insulted. But yuh should not. Know that what I said on tha battlefield was indeed tha truth. Yuh _are_ one of tha best fighters Berk has ta offer. And that is why I need yuh _here._"

His words seemed to make no sense; as if they were nothing but a jumble of garbled sounds that simply would not fit into the logic of her mind.

Stoick sighed, "Yuh will make a great teacher. The other Vikings are too stubborn and impatient ta teach. We need someone with finesse, like yuh." He smiled briefly, having finally stacked all of the parchments.

"Is that really the only reason?" Gradually, the blonde took a step towards the table again. The chief seemed astounded as he did not respond, simply stared in bewilderment. So Astrid decided to continue, "I just...I...It's seems to me as if that were an excuse. If you do not consider me strong enough for this journey, then please, be honest-"

"I'm sorry, Astrid." Once more, the burly red-haired man sighed, squeezing his eyes shut as he rubbed them. They had not slept in days; especially not him, with all the work he had to do.

Being a chief was far from an easy task. That, Astrid knew.

"Yuh know...when yuh were born, my son was but a few months older." Confusion spread across Astrid's expression; how come they had changed the topic so speedily?

"Yer father and I had arranged that, when yuh two were ta be grown up, yer'd be wed."

Astrid's eyes widened marginally, the indigo of her iris sparkling with the light. She could not believe the words that were exiting this man's mouth. _She had been engaged!?_

And no one ever _bothered_ to tell her? Probably because her to-be-husband had died long before she could speak her first word.

But nonetheless, the news seemed peculiar to her ears. Astrid had decided on a life as a shield-maiden, yet wanted to take it one step further and become a maiden warrior, in general. It meant that she declined all prospects of marriage and child-bearing in favour of fighting like a male Viking. As long as her father agreed to the terms, she could be announced as such by the chief. She had not yet asked him, but she knew her dad well. He adored her with every fibre of his being, and granted her anything she desired.

So if her lips uttered that she did not want to be promised to _anyone_, no matter _who_ proposed (one more courting-attempt by Snotlout and she would _burst_), she was sure he would not object.

She respected all warriors of Berk; their strength and agility as well as resilience. Even so, not one of them came anywhere near to the term _suitable_. They were all...well, Vikings. Hairy Hooligans, nonetheless. And she knew that, once she were married to a gross, buff, egocentric Berkian (her breakfast dared to jolt up her throat at the thought as again Snotlout's face appeared before her inner eye) she would be damned to a domesticated life of sewing and cooking and minding little, screaming, wailing toddlers.

_Yuck!_

Astrid's skin scrawled at the thought. Now hearing the chief talk about her meant-to-be-marriage with his deceased son was simply...perturbing.

"Sadly enough...it neva happened" she detected the heaviness with which he continued to speak, "but nonetheless, yuh are like a daughter ta me. Know that I hold yuh very dear, and that I don't want yuh out there, with those beasts." His hand pointed towards the entrance of the Meade Hall, "It will put me mind at ease knowin' yuh are _here_, protectin' Berk and keeping our people togetha. I hope yuh understand."

The blonde warrior could not find any words to explain how she felt; or _what_ she felt, for that matter. She was not sure herself, in all honesty. She guessed it was a mixture out of confusion, fear, pride and worry, as well as a mild trace of understanding and gratitude.

Feeling their conversation having reached its climax, the chief nodded, grasping the parchment pieces and circling the table, "Well then, Astrid" His heavy hand came to rest upon her shoulder as he smiled genuinely, "yuh best prepare with yer friends. It will be several weeks that yuh will spend with tha Looting Liars, afta all."

Astrid nodded absentmindedly, and did not hear as Stoick left, exiting the hall, leaving her to herself.

She could not help it; the thought of having been the chief's son's fiancé made her feel like she was burning.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **__I hope you all enjoyed this chapter as much as I did writing it!_

_A wonderful reviewer from the last chapter has actually noted that they want more on the relationship between Hiccup and Toothless and their whole bonding. Funnily enough, I had this chapter started and in its raw state when I read said review; I wasn't sure if I should go and post it. But then I thought "well, just do it!" I hope this really explains the whole dynamic between Hiccup and Toothless' bonding more clearly – it really is just like in the movie with the drawing and the trial-and-error flying lessons, except that Hiccup hides from his mother and not his father, seeing as she does not want him anywhere near the dangerous dragon. And of course it's a different place. I thought it would be a lot more interesting having Toothless' perspective on things this time round. I like irony, I guess? I will probably add in more, but later, from Hiccup's POV._

_The style I have been following has been inspired by the __**Chronicles Of Ancient Darkness **__book series by __**Michelle Paver**__. If you know it, then you have fantastic taste, if not, then you should TOTALLY read it. Literally, in there is a wolf who also describes things his own way. I found it so intriguing when I read it that I tried it out in my TOS 3shot and wanted to adapt it here, too. So here it is; there will only be occasional chapters with Toothless' POV, don't worry. And I will also put in more on Valka/Hiccup, but later. Don't wanna overload you._

_Anywho, tell me how you felt about this chapter, and what you thought about my nice twist of Astrid having been Hiccup's promised gal. Oh and, the maiden warrior part is something I invented. Hope you don't mind._

_Gosh, not used to writing such long A/N's._

_Here is the __**Toothless **__**dictionary **__I promised, it will be posted at the end of every chapter in which his POV will appear for you to refer to:_

_**Tall Green**__ – __Trees_

_**Vast Sparkle**__ – Ocean_

_**Wispy Wingless**__ – Hiccup_

_**She Wingless**__ – Astrid_

_**Mother Wingless**__ – Valka_

_**Black Scales**__ – Night Fury_

_**Big Soft**__ – Yak_

_**Little Soft**__ – Sheep _

_**Wingless**__ – Human_

_**Sharp Shiny**__ – Dagger_

_**Twisted Tails**__ – Bolas_

_**Wet**__ – Pond_

_**Endless Shifter**__ – Sky_

_**Large Hot **__– Sun_

_**Soggy Scale**__ – Fish_

_**Large Cold **__– Moon_

_**Sparks**__- Stars _


	4. Returning Home

_**A/N: **Sorryyy I took a bit long in working on the next chapter! Here it is!_

_I was a little sad to discover that not many reviewed last chapter. Guys, I really do hope to hear more from you this chapter. Reviews are the essence, the muse to my writing. All who also read "Where No One Goes" (my other ff) will know what I'm talking about. Think about this; all great authors, like Susan Colins, JK Rowling or name whomever you want, had a vocal audience. They would have never written/continued their works if their fans were just quiet, because they wouldn't know they liked it! So all I ask is a moment, a small tiny moment. A second really, of your precious time. I don't want essays, a simple word will do. Show me you are reading this, enjoying this, that you are **there** and that you want this to **continue** - don't turn silent! Silence will make me sad! I need music to write (I do, actually, lol). So at the end of this chapter, as a sign of appreciation, as a sign that you are THERE, reading, just leave behind a word or two :) It would be so great! I want to know that you are enjoying this, otherwise I'd see no point in writing. To all of you who have reviewed; you are **wonderful,** know that!_

_Thanks! Here we go!_

* * *

><p><span><strong>Returning Home<strong>

He could barely contain his unbound exhilaration as he jolted over a rock, stumbling across the uneven plane of grassy fields and coming to a stuttering halt before a large cavern. Running was not easy when you had a prosthetic for trade.

Stone slabs jutted in uneven angles and directions towards each other. The inside was dark. "Mother?" He received no response, hence decided to approach the cavern, entering into the darkness, "Hey bud, how about some light?"

Peeking behind him, Hiccup had to realise that his midnight-dyed companion was nowhere to be found.

"Toothless?"

Receiving no response, and frowning at that, Hiccup shrugged, simply entering and wading his way through the impeding obscurity of his home. The torches that decorated the walls were snuffed out, which usually meant his mother was either sleeping or not home.

Despite his reluctance to wake her; for she did not have many good nights, as of late, he was too overjoyed and desperate to tell her his euphoric news. Why it elated him so much was beyond him. It was not like he had not been to Berk before; an experience he viewed with mixed feelings, still. Nonetheless, it was his home-town, and with so many years having passed, he would be able to do a lot more.

His fighting skills had improved, he had trained the untameable Night Fury, had grown up so much and learnt a lot more than one might believe to be true. And who knew? Maybe he would even meet his father, and maybe he could convince the people of Berk; of _his_ origin, that dragons were everything they would never believe them to be.

He just needed a chance. A little shot to prove himself.

Of course, there was also that nagging, butterfly-causing feeling that warned him about a certain blonde haired Valkyrie being present when he returned. She would be about his age; and he could only imagine her immaculate beauty, like he had in all of his daydreams and blissful nightly encounters. So many times had Hiccup recreated scenarios within his conscience wherein he asked her out or confessed his feelings. All of them seemed too cliché to be true. He would sigh miserably, with longing, each time. Thank God his mother never noticed that he had this impeding crush. He kept it well hidden.

"Moth-"

"I'm 'ere." Her soft, delicate voice called from behind him and an orange light burst alive.

The torch a mere metres from him had been lit by Cloudjumper, who stood protectively behind his beloved rider.

Hiccup turned, facing the overly tall female, "Hey! Did you just return?" His smile was undeniable as he grinned at her like she had told him a fantastic joke.

"Yes, indeed. Cloudjumper and I were investigatin' a few things. Well, what's it yuh want ta talk about?" Seeing her son so gleeful caused her own mood to rise, despite the bitterness it had held priorly.

She stepped past him, nodding towards her Stormcutter and thus signalling for the grand dragon to light the rest of their home. She trudged over to her bed, rummaging through a chest for something unknown to the auburn-haired boy. Above her cot hung several drawings of infant dragons as well as grown up ones. One messy picture of Cloudjumper with Valka on the back also stuck there, all artworks created by the younger Hiccup.

She kept each and every piece. The paper itself had been a gift for Hiccup after she saved a trader from a few marauders. She knew his unwavering passion for art, and that his privilege to live the life of a normal young boy had been denied due to their...well..._secret._

The female Haddock did everything she could to ensure Hiccup had the best childhood he could ever wish for. And despite her knowledge that his upbringing was anything but easy, and that she did not make out to be a formidable mother, she also knew he was happy. Living with the dragons, learning their ways; it was mesmerizing to him and her, all day, every day.

She had taught him the basics of writing and talking like Vikings; all about their traditions and lifestyle, had granted him to walk amongst them for as much as he liked; Hel, he even picked up smithery with a blacksmith and began to really excel at it.

She had half agreed to that prospect; of living with other Vikings to _know what it was like_ simply because she herself did not see her motherly skill alone as very progressive. She wanted Hiccup to learn from a man, and Skeggi was the next-best thing.

Hiccup's father...well. As much as she imagined a scenario wherein she had _not_ 'saved' Hiccup and Cloudjumper had at least not taken _him_, just _her,_ so that he could have grown up to become the almighty Viking his father always imagined him to be, she feared such an idea too. The boy would have grown up to hate dragons; to treat them with contempt and anger. He would have murdered, never understanding the true sentiments of these soft-natured reptiles. The thought alone killed her.

All the times she and Hiccup spent awake, late at night, studying the stars, telling each other funny little tales. When she had placed him on the back of a dragon, told him to feel the air and wind around him, to _feel_ the muscles of the dragon's wings bat underneath. The journeys they had undertaken, the things they discovered and documented, tested and learnt.

Hiccup was tender at heart himself, just like most of the dragons that lived with them at the sanctuary. He could discern the cry of an aggravated dragon from that of an injured, or frightened. He knew how to handle them, how to mimic them and cause them to do his bidding. He could gain their trust as easily as he could walk and talk. He knew their language, and understood their innermost desires.

And the ultimate evidence was Toothless.

Imagining a world wherein she would be alone, with the dragons, but _without_ Hiccup, who would be nothing but a traditional, slaughtering Viking man, soon-to-be chief of Berk, was atrocious.

She loved Stoick. She did since the day he had won her heart, and did so every day that she was apart from him, too. But a life on Berk was no longer possible. They would not understand; would _never_ listen to her. And she could not kill something she held so close and dear; something that had become an inevitable _part_ of her. Maybe Hiccup would have been better off as a normal Viking, the way he sometimes seemed to yearn to be. But seeing the delight and admiration on his face when he observed his winged, reptilian family erased any doubt she had had up until then; he was _home_, with _them_.

With _her_.

They would change the world, bringing an end to the ongoing disaster that was war and bloodshed. More specifically, _he _would.

She knew it. She felt it. There was something within him; something she did not have, despite their similarity. Something grand and prospering, which, unless it was carefully stoked, would explode and backfire. It was destiny that, twenty years ago, she had snatched Hiccup into the bundle of her arms, just to be taken _together_ by Cloudjumper. He knew they were _different_, when Hiccup did not fear his approach. He knew that, one day, Hiccup would liberate them all. Valka was merely there to guide him, and observe. She fantasized about the day she would be able to walk back into Berk, and see a world of peace; one where dragons and Vikings coexisted in harmony.

A perfect world; but would Stoick ever forgive her?

The question burnt within her chest, and once more, as she had done so many, countless times, she quenched it. Pushing it into the back of her heart and mind, Valka shook her head, redirecting her attention towards her pride and hope; Hiccup.

"The Looting Liars are sending their warriors over to Berk, to train." He slowly explained, large emeralds trying to catch her eyes.

"Is that so?" Having finally found what she had been searching for, Valka shut the chest, "Training ta do what?" She quirked an eyebrow, already knowing the answer.

Hiccup's shoulders slumped, "Kill dragons." Was his solemn reply.

Valka sighed.

"B-But..." frowning, the boy halted with his words, seemingly pondering over something, until new determination flared up on his facial expression, "Skeggi is joining, to help with the smithy back on Berk. He asked for me to come along. To learn how to fight."

Surprised at the indirectly proposed ordeal, Valka turned to face her son. Her verdant orbs bore into his questioningly, wondering what deeper intentions he pursued, "And...?" she slowly queried, fearing the answer already.

"I want to go." He broadened his shoulders, standing straight and with dignity, "I want to see how they train their people in dragon-fighting. What knowledge they pass on. And...I want to change that. I want to show them _my_ way; _ours_. Reveal to them the truth about the dragons, and end this onslaughter once and for all."

His look was unwavering, and for many moments, Valka did nothing but gaze into his

eyes, contemplating.

She knew this day would come; had barely thought about it a few seconds ago. Immediately, anxiety overcame her; she wanted to deny him the allowance to go, but he was twenty. He was a man now, no longer a boy. She would have to accept that. Yet despite it all...

He looked so much like his father.

"Go ta Berk, an' watch with frightful eyes again as they assassinate dragons? Don't yuh remember yer last time?"

"Mom, I know, but I _have_ to do this! I cannot stay back and watch history simply..._repeating_ itself!" He was fussing around with his hands; a habit he had just like his father. He liked to commune with his hands.

"An' it is not because of some blonde lass yuh want ta go back ta that place called Berk?" her voice was even as she spoke, her face expressionless.

"Mom, this is important to me, to _us_. I _need_ to do this. Or it will _never_ end."

"Yuh sure yuh are ready?" Finally, after a pregnant pause filled with tension, she responded.

Hiccup was irritated. His mother did not burst out into roaring and told him what an insane idiot he was being? For believing to be capable of changing the Berkians? Had she not claimed so _all his life_?

"I...yes." He scowled.

Valka nodded, "Good. I always feared this day would come, but I also know it is what yuh must do." His puzzlement only grew, and seeing that, Valka elaborated, "Hiccup, we were born different. Which does not mean we have to live our own lives far away from those who still adhere ta tha old laws; _no_, it means the Gods see in us more than others do. And that we need to show this world just what. It is our duty ta unify Vikings and dragons peacefully." She sighed after she completed her last sentence, briefly shutting her eyes, "I tried, an' failed." but as she opened them again, Hiccup saw strength and belief flicker within her irises, "_Yuh_, me boy, are _different_. Even more so than I. I think yuh have what I lack."

Her son did not speak a word as she continued, "Go ta Berk. And do what yuh must. Face yer destiny, and probably yer father..."

With that, she walked the remaining distance up to him, grasping his face softly with her fingers, smiling as she stroked along his jaw, before she decided to circle around and leave, Cloudjumper following suit.

Hiccup was left behind to wonder.

* * *

><p>Hiccup had surrendered into speechlessness when he left the cavern that afternoon, and when Toothless came bounding towards him, all merry and energized.<p>

He had imagined the talk with his mother to go differently. Not that he despised the outcome; on the contrary, he was more than joyous to realise that his plan had worked and that, somehow, he was capable of convincing his overprotective mother to agree to his endeavour.

He need not her approval, for he was grown up, but he wanted her consent, nonetheless.

Hiccup would just never have imagined for it to come so easily. As if she had expected this day to arrive sooner or later, that she had merely prepared him for a journey much grander than he would have ever believed to be true.

Granted, his dream had _always_ been to unite humans and reptiles and bring about peaceful terms, but his mother had often warned him about such childish aspirations.

Yet here he stood, on deck of a twenty foot long vessel packed with Vikings from the tribe of Looting Liars, all headed towards Berk. Toothless, after having made several nerve-wrecking adjustments to his tail-fin mechanism, flew discreetly high above. He had promised his obsidian companion to meet him under the veil of darkness, somewhere beyond the forests. Toothless had snorted in agreement, albeit with much hesitancy and displeasure.

He could not erase his mother's final words out from his head. Curtly after he had packed his belongings and went to head out with Toothless towards the isle of Looting Liars, she kissed his cheek and hugged him tight, without a term being exchanged, and watched him take off.

Suddenly, he felt unnerved. The fact that she seemed to have caught onto his unwavering, years-long crush on a certain blonde Viking did nothing to ease his queasiness, which this time along did _not_ have its origins with the boat-ride. Skeggi must have mentioned something to her...

The journey seemed to take longer than when he had been twelve and it was just Skeggi and him. Everything bustled and budged, the vessel tilting violently despite the calmness of the ocean. Hiccup was just glad no tidal dragons interfered their travel. When they finally reached the docks of Berk, Hiccup held his breath. Just as he had it engraved into his memory from all those years ago, the island shone with glory and pride, with strength and beauty, steadfast and stubborn just like its inhabitants.

The Looting Liars cheered upon arrival, and numerous Vikings greeted them as they anchored the ship. Hiccup would have to lie if he claimed to recognize some of those faces. Either his memory had gotten terribly weak, or the people of Berk had changed. How, he did not want to consider.

He just prayed it was the former.

The auburn-haired man was deemed to aid Skeggi in transporting crates into the workshop further towards the centre of the town. All the while, the old blacksmith mocked his strength and stamina, yet Hiccup ignored it dutifully the way he had done for so many years. He was not even wavered by the fact that so many Vikings bumped into him, causing the man to stumble and stagger on his pathway to and fro. No excuses were spoken, just warnings. Yep, he was amongst Vikings, indeed.

He took a moment to admire the craftsmanship displayed on Berk; it was no poor island, for sure. The Hairy Hooligans had only the finest of resources, and their houses were decorated prettily with all sorts of details, colours, and extras. What a time-consuming task, Hiccup shook his head at that thought. All the dragon raids nearly every week and each Viking would be damned to do the work all over again.

Continuing on his pathway, he bypassed several children running mindlessly around and working, burly men. Everything breathed and boomed life; just like how he recalled from all those years ago. Except that it seemed even livelier.

"Hiccup!" Skeggi's stern, somewhat raspy voice grunted. Rushing with his steps, the lanky Viking reached the forge, planting the crate down as he stood up straight.

"Yes, Skeggi?"

Behind the old Viking stood Gobber; Hiccup still remembered the ranting old man and his imposing character.

"Yer'll be Gobber's assistant, as of now." Skeggi declared sternly, turning to leave the forge.

The boy frowned with confusion; the _second_ time in less than a week that he was caught off-guard with the strange antics of the people closest to him, "And you...?"

"I'm retirin' back ta Looting Liars with tha next vessel full o' resources. I'm not tha man fer fighting dragons; not at this age. Gobber, he is all yers. Don't expect too much, nor too little." With one last hearty laugh, the grey-bearded man left.

"Well then, lad! Welcome ta Gobber's paradise of metal an' hammer-working. _Again_." The tall, muscular blonde hobbled over towards him, "Look at ya; all grown up and handsome. Quite tha catch with tha ladies, ey? Although yuh still lack muscles." With his hammer-hand, he nudged Hiccup's arm, causing the boy to take a step back.

"I...guess." He innocently threw in, grinning foolishly.

Gobber snorted in response, "It's hard work; there's a lot more ta do over 'ere, lad."

"I'm used to work." he began to push the crates towards the back of the shop, before he turned and took in his surroundings.

Just the same as eight years ago; and the same as on the isle of Looting Liars. Not bothering to question or hesitate, Hiccup grasped a bellow and stoked the sizzling flames, causing the tendrils of hot fire to flicker upwards and lick the air greedily. He then took a dented sword to his right, placing it into the palpable heat until the metal became malleable.

Gobber watched with fascination as the young boy got to work with a hammer, reshaping the weapon with quite a bit of skill and patience. He turned, attending his own work, which was a mace.

"And, joinin' tha training tamorrow?" Gobber queried with a cheery tone.

Hiccup halted, glancing up from his work briefly before he continued, "No."

The blonde Viking raised a quizzical eyebrow at that, "Oh really? Why else did yer join on tha journey, then?"

Obviously, Hiccup was not going to elaborate further, thus he decided to put on a fake act, "Oh, just curious. I wanna watch, and see how you Berkians fight. _Maybe_ learn the one or other thing from a distance. But most prominently, I like the change of scenery."

Laughing warmly, Gobber nodded, "Aye, good reasons. There's a lot ta take with yer from Berk. Shame yuh won't meet tha chief anytime soon."

_The chief_.

Again, Hiccup had to disrupt his labour. Last time, when he was but a twelve year old boy, he had not really seen the chief, either. They claimed he was on a journey across the oceans, reasoning with various tribes and dealing out treaties.

Was it the same, again?

"He's set off with some Vikings ta find that nest." Gobber explained, his hammer coming down hard on his own piece of metal.

Hiccup quenched the sword in a bucket of water, watching steam accumulate and hiss around the tool, "Nest?"

"Tha nest of dragons, of course! Tha one Vikings have been searchin' fer fer, well, centuries."

"And what does he want to do if he finds it?"

"Why, destroy it of course!" Gobber briefly glanced over at the lanky man, scrutinizing him, "I'd o' gone along, but he wants me ta stay 'ere and take care of tha Berkians, as well as oversee tha training. Yer sure yer don't wanna join 'em tamorrow?"

Hiccup smiled sheepishly, "Yeah, I'll just...watch." He nodded to confirm his decision, and Gobber grunted at that, "I doubt they'd be able to deal with all my Vikingness, anyway." Hiccup chortled, grabbing a shield and testing the bolts.

"Don't say that, lad; even dragons need toothpicks, yer know." He frowned as the loud blacksmith hollered with laughter.

"You have the same sense of humour Skeggi owns." Hiccup stated dryly, polishing the edge of the shield's metal.

"Well, he rubbed off on me all those years as I was his student!" The man wobbled over, chucking the heavy mace in front of Hiccup, "I am surprised yuh haven't caught onto it, yet." Then, Gobber grabbed a whole load of weaponry, letting the amount of it clatter onto the workbench nearest the young rider, "'Ere, work on these when yuh finish on tha shield. I've got something ta do in tha meantime." Bobbing his head briefly, the blacksmith turned and left.

Protesting would be as futile as it always had been, Hiccup mused, seeing as Gobber _was_ a lot like his former teacher.

Thus, listening to the noises of the overly energized Berk, Hiccup set off to work alone in the forge, concealed from prying, curious eyes. He was trying to recall the pathways through Berk as he laboured, attempting to remember the best route which would take him to the forests so that he could meet up with Toothless during nightfall.

Deeply locked away in his wondering, he did not react when a delicate, yet strong hand rasped at the window several times, or when footsteps were taken towards the entrance of the forge. Once more, a first knocked against wood, but Hiccup continued moulding the steel, reforming it, oblivious to the visitor he had.

"Hello?" It was only when the tender, smooth voice of a female echoed throughout the smithy that Hiccup jolted upright, surprised.

He turned around, and felt as if someone had kicked him in the guts unexpectedly.

There stood the girl of his haunting dreams, of his endless fantasies and countless daydreams, in all her twenty-year-old glory.

She was nearly as tall as him, with her braid now swinging over her left shoulder, finely decorated with intricate patterns. Her face was heartily shaped, rounded, with a buttoned nose, and those eyes_. Those eyes_. He lost himself in the hypnotizing hue of shimmering indigo. She was stunning, mesmerizing, _breathtaking_.

Hiccup could feel his heart doing incredible somersaults, the heat rising up into his cheeks and the nape of his neck. He hoped she'd blame it on the hearth.

"Where's Gobber?" Her flowing, river-like voice which soothed and eased all his woes vibrated inside his ears. Her tone was stern, unaffectionate, causing the auburn-haired man to yearn for tender words to leave her sparkling lips. It must sound incredible.

Too many embarrassing seconds of simple gawking sped by before Hiccup found his tongue, and courage, and decided to respond to her raised eyebrow and impatiently tapping foot.

"He's out...somewhere."

Astrid sighed evidently, her shoulders slacking, "Great..." she had turned her face to the side, seemingly contemplating something, before she averted them back to him with scrutiny, "Are you...?"

She shrugged her shoulders, giving him a questioning glance once more.

"O-Oh, I-I'm...I'm from the Looting Liars. I came with Skeggi. I work under Gobber now, though..."

"Apprentice." Astrid summed up, and as much as Hiccup desired to correct her, for he was far beyond learning stage, he dared not to.

She was so imposing it nearly frightened him. Heck, actually, it _terrified_ him. In a good way.

"I'll just come back later, then." She turned to leave and his heart began to lurch painfully.

"Wait!" He called out, straining his hand to _not_ reach out melodramatically, "Maybe I can help?"

The blonde Viking spun on her heel, mustering Hiccup with a heavy glare. She did not retort immediately.

"I need my axe sharpened."

"I can do that." He smiled, lifting his hand as a sign for her to hand over the weapon.

Reluctant, the girl caved, grasping her beloved weapon and carefully handing it over. She hoped the wispy boy could hold it; he did not look like much, after all. More like a pathetic excuse for a Viking. She could see why they damned him to the forges rather than onto the battlefields; even though forgery demanded a lot of skill, patience and finesse.

He took the axe, heading towards the grinder and starting the pedal.

"Careful, please, it's my mothers."

Hiccup nodded, still smiling, as he set off to work, meticulously setting the blunt edge of the blade against the spinning stone and observing as sparks flew around his hands and face.

Whilst he sharpened the axe, Astrid wandered around the forge, glancing at the various weaponry and utensils Gobber kept there. She did not often have the chance to do so, as Gobber would mostly take the axe through the window, asking for her to wait until he was done.

"So...I take it you will be at the training tomorrow?" Her inquiry left her lips with a strong lack of enthusiasm. This fragile boy would not stand five minutes in the arena when they released the first Gronckle.

Elated upon the fact that the _mysterious_ blonde decided to speak instead of bask in the silence, Hiccup responded almost too speedily, "Nope, just gonna watch."

Why did he sound so happy as he said those words, turning the blade in his hand, working on the other side?

"Not...?"

He briefly glanced at her, his heart jumping mercilessly, "I'm not the dragon-fighting type."

She did not care for him to elaborate that further, simply shrugging and believing that he acknowledged his physical handicap, and accepted it without much protest. _Weak_, in Astrid's mind.

"Will...you be there?" The curious question came back to her.

"I'll be teaching." A small flicker of pride echoed within her tone.

"Oh really?" He should have bit his tongue, for the response seemed anything but _not mocking_.

Surprised at his doubtful voice, and the way he chuckled lightly, she twisted her head towards him, eyes large and furious.

A skinny little heap of bones and flesh, as un-Viking as it could get, and he _dared_ to insult her strength? She could take him out, here and now, one-handedly, if she wanted to. He would not see it coming, much less be capable of defending himself.

"What's so funny?" Her voice was biting, like the venom of a Deadly Nadder quill.

"N-Nothing...just...I thought only men would be at the arena to learn and teach how to fight." At his stereotypical retort, Astrid took a heavy step towards him, mustering her most intimidating glare and stature.

"And _why_ would you believe that?" She had her perfect eyebrow raised challengingly.

Hiccup had to bite back the urge to gulp, "Well, you're a pretty girl. Didn't think they'd let you out there to fight."

Had he really just said that?

He _had_ said that.

Oh dear gods, someone, _he had said just __that._

'_You are beautiful.'_

_'I cannot stop thinking about you.'_

_'I love you.'_

Any of those would have placed him in less of a predicament than what he was about to face.

_'Dear Thor, if you have an ear, and a heart, zap me already._'

Astrid's blood felt like it was boiling. The wispy excuse for a Viking dared criticize her. _He really dared._

And despite his increasing fear upon the consequences of his idiotic actions, Hiccup kept a stern expression himself, acting as if none of what he had said fazed him in the slightest; like he contained no remorse.

"Listen up, _you wimp,_ just because I am a _girl_, and just because I am _pretty_, does _not_ mean I don't know how to _kick your ass into Helheim!_" She was seething, teeth grinding menacingly as she took a step closer with every word she spoke, until she was face to face with the other Viking; well, sort of. She had to look up towards him, as he was about half a head taller than her.

"I did not say that." He replied with a cool demeanour. He had stopped the grinding stone, the axe still in his hands, "I'm pretty sure you can whoop my ass and make me incapable of sitting down properly for the next few weeks."

"But?" She hissed.

"But..." instead of responding, Hiccup smiled at her; in all honesty, he had no idea what exactly he should say.

He _knew_ she was strong, and skilled, and athletic. Hel, her toned body spoke volumes for her. Despite it all, the thought of her fighting and waging war, thus putting herself out towards impeding danger filled him with dread.

He barely knew her, but feared for her as if she were a part of him.

Maybe, even, she _was_.

Astrid could feel her skin crawl. As much as she felt like punching him and knocking him out flat, right now, his smile unnerved her. Everything began to move, and she concentrated on the details of his emerald orbs. His emotions were carefully displayed, and yet concealed. He was somewhat difficult to interpret, even though he seemed so serene and genuine.

"I finished your axe." He whispered, handing her the perilous blade. She took it with a huff, still focusing on his visage, "I guess I'll see you at the training grounds tomorrow." He added.

"I thought you weren't the fighting type?" It was her turn to be teasing now.

"I'm not. But I'll still be eager to watch you." Again, that smile returned to his lips, and she _knew_ with heart-thundering certainty that he did _not_ mean it sarcastically.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: **Well that first encounter went anything but well...HAH! So, what will Hiccup do at the training the next day? Will he join? Will he not? How will it go? Anyone wanna guess how Astrid feels right now? Her impressions of Hiccup? And what about Stormfly; will she appear? GUESS WHAT WILL HAPPEN! I'd gladly hear your ideas. So yeah, don't forget to **review,** it's right now here. RIGHT. DOWN. THERE. Like, typing up a word, then send, it's so easy, it does not take long but it means the **WORLD** to me._

_You get my famous **Night Fury** and **Deadly Nadder** cookies if you do ;DDD *bribes bribes***  
><strong>_


	5. Taming Astrid

_**A/N: **Whacka! I have been busy with stuff; checking on the next chapter took a little longer. But for that, it IS longer too!_

_I wanna send you all christmasy, heart-warming cuddle-hugs for the wonderful amount of reviews you gave me last chapter! You cannot believe how elated I was; I'm glad I was capable of motivating you to respond, and I would be INFINITELY happier if you kept it up - keep **reviewing** each chapter, and maybe, even MORE of you will feel the motivation to drop a word or two. Just to show that you appreciate the update. KEEP IT UP M'DEARS!_

_I am also glad to see that many of you found the encounter between Hiccup and Astrid intriguing. I was not sure how to write it, but am very confident with it now. I do believe Hiccup would be very flustered :) Don't forget that some of these scenes will be parallel to the actual movies, seeing as it is supposed to be an "alternative canon". So, some of you guessed right as to what their reactions will be; to find out what I mean, just read on!_

_Enjoy~_

* * *

><p><span><strong>Taming Astrid<strong>

When Astrid left the workshop with confident strides, an evident _huff_ and an air of indignation and confusion all around her, Hiccup sighed in relief.

Never in all of his life had he felt so..._agitated_.

Eight years and this woman still had him wrapped around her little finger as tightly as ever; and best of all, she was not even aware of her incredible power. To her, he was just some obscene-looking young man with no ambition and even less of a future.

The only thing she would ever admire him for was the fact that he had managed to survive up until now_. _

Seating himself on top of a keg, Hiccup slumped his shoulders, gulping down deep breaths of scalding air. The hearth cackled and sizzled idly as he observed the maroon hues which intermingled with orange and amber, tickling the roof of the forge.

Where had this new-found courage come from? All the confidence with which he talked and held himself, as if he knew no fear, and was sure to win any challenge presented to him. Like he accepted any fate, and dealt with it in a way much more superior than that of Vikings. Next thing he knew, he would stumble into bravado that was not his.

Although, with his main goal being to show the inhabitants of Berk that dragons were anything but _monsters_, was he not really aiming to achieve _just that_? Acknowledgement? Acceptance? Happiness? Being one amongst many, considered a part of the tribe, rather than the strange, obscure outsider who had neither foot nor hand, metaphorically speaking?

Hiccup sighed some more. Despite all of it; his history, his character, Hel even his _destiny_, he still had hopes of somehow managing to whoo Astrid. And even if she would not like him the way he liked her in return, at least he dreamt of attaining her trust, and opening up to her; to _show_ her what really lay underneath the thick hide of scales and scorching flames that made out a dragon.

And then, when she understood; when she _tried_ to understand, at least, he could build up something akin to a friendship. He really did not know what it was about her that fascinated him to such a degree. Yet whenever he saw her lustrous eyes he could not stop himself from believing that, for a moment, there might be the possibility of a bond between them. That out of all the brutish, rough Vikings which trudged this world, _she_ was the only one who could and would truthfully understand him. At least, to begin with. She was the start, and she was the end. Somehow, Hiccup was assured that once he got her trust, he had that of every other man and woman alive.

May only the Gods be able to explain how come he felt such certainty about the high-held blonde. She was cold, rejecting and held herself with such dignity and strength, walls pulled up all around her that he felt incapable of penetrating no matter what battering ram he chose to use. There were many much kinder Vikings; with hearts more open, but he chose _her_.

Or rather, his _heart_ had. She was the answer, Hiccup knew it. Despite his usual demand for logic and sense, this one situation was out of the norm. He knew it because it _felt_ right. Even Toothless agreed; at least, that was what Hiccup thought. He was about to attempt to create a bond similar to that with his black companion. Just...on a _different_ path and level...

He hoped he would be successful. He was sure that taming a dragon was ten times easier than taming an Astrid.

* * *

><p>She seethed as she left the forge, eyes a furious glare and hands balled into knuckle-white fists.<p>

How _dare_ he?

_How dare he!_

She, Astrid Hofferson, one of the Hooligan tribe's most outstanding warriors and dragon slayers, soon-to-be announced _Fearless_, was being _mocked_ by a _toothpick._

A man who had barely the muscle or the intelligence to raise a shield in such a way that he'd protect himself from a Nadder spike.

Who would fail the moment a Gronckle buzzed towards him, too frightened to dodge.

Who, with _conviction_, would even fail if he were asked to handle a Terrible Terror.

Forget his skilful hands; the way he professionally sharpened that axe, smooth and calm, without any ragged edges. Forget that, when Astrid tried the blade, she cut herself miserably.

Forget his somewhat still toned biceps, his tall complexion, broad shoulders and the powerful stance he held himself with. All the muscles hidden behind the rather alluring black and brown leather armoury he wore; as if he were up to no good, but could put on an act of utter innocence.

_Stop it Hofferson_.

No; that small, nimble dragon would outright _murder_ him before he would be capable of uttering his own name-

What _was_ his name, anyway?

Astrid had entirely forgotten to ask; and upon that realisation, she halted. She took in deep breaths of crispy air, frowning at her own ignorance. But then again; did she _want_ to know his name? Not really, considering he would be dead the moment he encountered his first dragon raid. That boy would not know where to put himself, and the fires would most likely eat him whole; if a Monstrous Nightmare or the likes did not do so beforehand.

So to Hel with his name and his sturdy jawline and the stubble that grained across the smooth surface of his skin; the small freckles, the auburn locks, the wild bangs which contained the perfect length to be braid-

_Stop now! Astrid Hofferson, what has gotten __into__ you!?_

She was cursing internally by now, grinding her teeth menacingly as she approached the Mead Hall. She was a shield-maiden, and a maiden-warrior in the making. No pathetic little lump of good looks could deter her, _especially_ not the one currently working at the forge. So stop, treacherous heart, from disobeying! These palpitations were driving her insane; hammering inside her head too loudly to think clear.

Maybe Freyja was testing her with some cruel joke; or Frig herself had her fingers curling around the whole thing. The gods wanted to see if Astrid was carved out of the fine wood she claimed to be made of; and that was only righteous so. The blonde Viking would prove her utter strength and prowess.

_Nobody_ would impress her in _such_ a way; not unless they had slain so many dragons that none were left to raid. Or they were too frightened to attack, fearing that very human. Even _then_, it took a lot more to captivate her.

For she was Astrid Hofferson.

And _Astrid_ _Hofferons_ did not know the meaning of the word _attraction._

* * *

><p>He did not know what motivated him to go to the welcoming party in the Mead Hall. Gobber had declared it to be a good idea; <em>"Meet tha people, get ta know sum of us. An' enjoy a good mug o' mead!" <em>

_Urgh._

Hiccup could not _stand_ mead. Once, when he had been eight, his mother had taken him along to an island somewhere south of their sanctuary. There was a tavern there, boasting with the best mead in all of the archipelago. She liked to go there, sometimes, to socialize with humans from occasion to occasion. So that she did not forget what it was like to be amongst your own kind. And to hear the latest gossip; when dedicating one's life to protecting and saving dragons, you needed to know what the other Vikings were up to, what with their traditional reptile-slaughtering feasts. In case a rare breed had been found or the likes.

He had begged her to sip that funny-smelling concoction she was downing. Valka denied, so, the moment she was indulged into an eager conversation with another woman about this and that, he snuck up onto her lap, grasped the mug and carefully tasted the liquid.

It was outright devastating; the taste, the whole feeling of stinging, bitter fluids on his tongue.

Granted, _he had been eight_, but fact was it had tasted obscene and the memory stuck to him like a second skin. Not to mention that Hiccup knew about the after-effects of too much mead. Nothing he desired anytime soon.

Nonetheless, he found himself within the huge compound that made out their Great Hall. He had to admit; he was impressed. His former recollections of the hall had been anything but modest, of course, with its grand build, filled with colours and portraits and intriguing designs. Now, at twenty, Hiccup appreciated the art of the hall even more than before; it was breathtaking, to say the least, and so _vast_. In comparison to the Great Hall on the island of Looting Liars, which was a joke, really. Not half as glamorous or beautiful.

The sheer amount of people was another factor which astounded him. He had never observed as many civilians gathered on one spot, with the volume rising to a deafening extent that it surprised him a dragon would even consider attacking this place; they hated loud noises, and this was even calamitous for _his_ ears.

He moved along, keeping to the wall of the interior and out of sight from any boisterous Viking. He dared not accidentally bump into one of them; gods know how they might react. Hiccup was anything but eager to find out. So instead, he moved to grab himself a tankard of mead, just to appear traditional, holding it within his hand as he leaned against the back wall and watched the villagers interact.

Not a single soul was _not_ upbeat. They all cheered and laughed, talking amiably with each other, roaring and exulting, chortling and giggling. Women were whispering, men were shouting. It felt so lively and warm that Hiccup could not bite back a smile. He imagined having grown up in such an atmosphere; with humans all around him, celebrating every victory together as a large family.

It was mesmerizing to observe, that he admitted, but the thought of being the sworn enemy of dragons twisted his heart.

_Toothless_.

He had promised his scaly best friend to meet up sometime after sundown. He should best be on his way.

Placing the mug on a nearby table for some other lucky Viking to consume, he slithered as stealthily as a Night Fury back towards the entrance, hoping to sneak away without much fuss. It would not seem to be hard, considering that half the crowd was inebriated, the other too occupied to wonder about a simple lanky boy and his nightly plans.

"Look who we have here."

Yet fate was intriguing against him this very day.

Something bulky and broad, with crossed arms and a stinging smell cast a shadow around him; yet did not fully encase his body. The figure was a good head or two smaller than himself, so Hiccup found he had to gaze down the bridge of his nose to look into the guy's face.

Immediately recognition swooshed through his brain; the angular visage and tiny freckles, the self-appreciating, near to narcissistic glance.

"Aren't you that kid from six years ago?" The boy quirked an eyebrow near to mockingly, "You look so scrawny it rings a few bells."

"Eight years." Behind the man stood a larger personality, much broader and pudgier than his opposite; holding his arms nervously in front of himself, "It's been eight years, actually." The guy corrected meekly.

The other Viking rolled his eyes, "Eight years then, whatever. Remember me?"

It was not too hard recognizing the pain of his everyday visits around Berk, in all honesty. He had not grown much, well, at least in _height_. His physical power obviously had.

"Snotlout." Hiccup declared, frowning at the realisation.

"Yes. And Fishlegs, and Ruffnut and Tuffnut here." He twisted his thumb to point behind himself, where said people stood rather curiously. The twins held a tankard of mead in their hands each, grinning with devious mischief.

Hiccup grumbled, glad the noise was drowned out by the buzzing liveliness of the hall. Eight years after, and a lot of dragon riding and training, but he was _still_ going to be teased like he were twelve again.

"I take it you have decided to learn how to kill a dragon? I'm surprised they haven't _eaten_ you up until now. Must be some useful pair of legs, despite them looking the opposite." The Jorgenson chortled, pointing at his metal prosthetic, and his blonde companions joined him, "Of course, here, you will learn _just_ the right skills. But do not expect to excel at all, what with _your_ rather lousy set of muscles." another bout of laughter as Hiccup rolled his eyes.

"I don't have time for your pathetic mockery, Snotlout." He tried to dodge the group of four, turning to arch around them, but the young Viking simply stepped in his way, again.

"Really, now? After all the hospitality we are serving you with?"

What a joke.

What hospitality was _he_ serving Hiccup with? It was simply being a show-off, in his eyes. All the hard work and proceedings came from the elder Viking members of this tribe, highlighting and punctuating the chief, who had successfully negotiated that they train here under the keen eye of the Hooligan tribe. Hiccup knew with certainty that _this_ guy had nothing to do with the politics and friendliness the Looting Liars were currently showered in.

"If you want to _survive_ in this world, Hiccup, you better start training and stop daydreaming. You can watch me do it – after all, you are supposed to learn from the _best-"_

"Which is definitely not _you_, Snotlout." The derogative remark was thrown in by none other than Astrid, who came sauntering over with a look of apathy, "You might be strong, but a pathetic fighter nonetheless. You know _nothing_ about dragons."

The boy was obviously flustered, glaring daggers at his blonde counterpart, who was anything but deterred, "Yes I do! I have slain my fair share already!"

"Yeah, of Terrible Terrors, _maybe._" And at her jibe, the others snickered along, causing Snotlout to blush furiously.

"That's not true! I killed a Monstrous Nightmare just the other _week_!" He had his fists balled and eyebrows creased.

"In your dreams." Another fit of laughter, causing the short Jorgenson to grind his teeth and glare.

"Yeah? Well...in your dreams...Shut up Astrid!" By now, the twins where roaring with glee, mead sloshing from their mugs and onto the wooden floor. Fishlegs held his round belly and Astrid chuckled lightly herself. Even Hiccup could not bite back a grin from spreading, admiring the way Astrid so fluidly jabbed at the Viking's _reputation._

"Just watch out, toothpick!" Snotlout was pressing a firm finger towards said boy's chest, dark brown eyes boring into his green ones, "This is no place for fish-bones like yourself! This is the _real_ world."

"Thanks for that revelation. I'll keep it in mind next time I see you slay a Terrible Terror so heroically." He smirked, the group laughed even _more. _Snotlout snapped.

With a defiant roar, he twisted on his heel and left.

"Nice one again, Astrid!" The female blonde; _Ruffnut_, threw in.

"Thanks. My easiest daily task." The air of smugness around her thickened, before she turned to face Hiccup herself, "Don't believe I was _defending_ you. I just like to bully Snotlout, seeing as it's best to taste your own medicine once in a while."

Hiccup kept a neutral facial expression, eyeing her challenging stance.

"Yeah! Well, he was not bad either just now!" Tuffnut, grinned, snickering all too knowingly, "You _gotta_ tell him about the time you rejected Snotlout's marriage proposal! His face! Priceless!"

At the words _marriage proposal_, Hiccup stiffened. The very thought that shot like a sharp arrow through his mind of Astrid giving her hand to _anyone_ beside him was simply put _revolting._

_Especially_ considering Snotlout Jorgenson; a man too in love with his muscles and invented glory to heed a woman as Astrid with enough respect and honour as would be necessary. In Hiccup's eyes, she signified everything Snotlout was not. And that without minding the obvious facts of differing gender and physical attributes.

He was more than elated to hear she had declined; somehow, he could not help but feel pride, too.

"What a shame." He remarked sarcastically, smirking at the Valkyrie next to him.

Astrid grimaced, "I don't know in what fantasy world _he _lives in, believing us to have _a thing._"

"Yeah, there was only a three percent chance you had of said yes, after all" The bulkier boy by the name of Fishlegs chortled, who earned himself a withering glare from Astrid upon his words, "I mean, statistically speaking. Of course he had...zero percent chances. I mean, you want to be a maiden-warrior, right?" He was sweating by now, stumbling back a step.

Hiccup creased his brows, looking between both Vikings, "Maiden...warrior?"

"You don't know what a maiden-warrior is?" Tuffnut chimed in, giving him a funny eye as he stepped forwards, "Really, don't you have any on the island of Looting Liars?"

Hiccup gaped, not sure what to retort to that. Maybe they did, maybe they did not. What other women were up to was something he never considered much. It lacked personal importance. His mind was far too busy revolving around dragons, or a _specific_ female Viking.

"It means you do not enter into matrimony, or generally, involve yourself with family-making of any kind." Fishlegs elaborated, raising a finger as he spoke.

"You swear off love and sex" Ruffnut made a sneer of disgust, "well, the former, not really the latter." A sudden wicked grin formed on her lips, "Nobody would know about that, after all."

"Shut up, Ruffnut." Astrid was glaring again; it seemed that was her favourite expression to wear, "I have not been announced one yet. I have my dad's consent, just not the chiefs, and anyway-"

Her words drowned out of his mind as he stared at her agitatedly explaining whatever it was to her female counterpart.

_Not marry..._his heart thrummed desperate beats at the thought. Once more he had to remind himself that he _barely_ knew this woman, that there was no real connection existing between them and that he had no claim whatsoever. Despite it all, devastation seeped into his system. His heart lurched.

"Hey, I'm talkin' to you, fish-bone!" Ruffnut was snapping a finger in front of his face, frowning at him.

"W-What?" Hurled out of his reverie, he blinked several times.

"We're going to get some more drinks, wanna join?"

"I'd not bother, Ruffnut. _This_ guy isn't going to join us during dragon training anyway. Not like he'd live to tell the tale." Astrid gave him a look that spoke volumes in itself, before she presented him with her back, wandering off deeper into the hall. The twins and Fishlegs followed, shrugging before they left.

"Shame, he is quite ho-" Ruffnut's remaining words were lost in the booming ruckus of the Great Hall.

Hiccup was left behind, feeling dejected.

* * *

><p>After the previous day and the occurrences at the Hall, Hiccup felt rather discouraged to go and join the audience currently gathered at the training academy. Of course he was curious; and <em>knew<em> for a fact that half of the knowledge these Vikings claimed to have about dragons was based on absolute illogical assumptions.

But Astrid's word had left him slightly charred. It was the withered way with which she had looked at him, too; as if she _desired_ for him to die as soon as a dragon appeared, just to prove a point.

Not even when he met up with Toothless that evening, who had been patiently waiting at the edge of the forests, something hanging out of his maw, could his spirit be lifted. The dragon warbled and licked his face, regurgitating a piece of slimy aquatic animal in an attempt to comfort. Nothing enlivened his rider.

Hiccup simply sighed heavily, "I'll be back tomorrow afternoon, I promise."

So, as he stood in the forge, a hammer in his left and a dented, blunt sword in his right hand, his mind reeled with thoughts as it so easily did when he was physically occupied. _He_ was more likely to survive a raid than _she_ was; ignore her incredible warrior prowess and years of extended training and practice. _He_ lived amongst them; knew their language and their ways more than _she _did.

One simple movement of his hands, and glance from his emerald eyes, and a Monstrous Nightmare lay helplessly at his feet. _Astrid_ would need several bolas, an axe, too many moves and stamina and _way_ longer to subdue it her way. One thing was for sure then: Hiccup would _control_ the dragon. Astrid would only have it writhing and struggling to free itself and launch an offensive attack.

Simply put; Hiccup knew the art of gaining a dragon's trust in such a way that it was prepared to _die_ protecting him, always keeping his back and approaching once he was in a desperate situation.

If Astrid turned her back, she would have to fear a scathing burst of flames to envelope her.

He was a _dragon whisperer._ And he would show them (her) just what he was capable of.

A cloud of heat wafted up from the cracking hearth, causing sweat to accumulate above his brow, trickling down his cheeks and tickling his tender flesh. He felt like taking his leather and tunic off, yet opted against such an open display of meager muscles.

Hiccup tossed the sword into the icy water-bucket, a determined frown plastered on his face as threw the hammer to the side and made his way towards the exit of the forge.

"Goin' sumwhere, lad?" Gobber interrupted from the back entrance of the workshop. Hiccup halted abruptly.

"I was...going to watch the training." He scratched the nape of his neck sheepishly, hoping the elder Viking would not protest.

Which he did not. In Gobber's sceptical eyes Hiccup could see the hope that, by watching the true warriors slay dragons, the boy might pick up on _something_ to help him see the next day without _another_ missing limb. He could only imagine too well how he had lost his left leg in first place, anyway.

"Go on then, lad. Be careful. I'll come watch me-self later." Waving his hand dismissively, Hiccup grinned, legging it out of the hot smithy and towards the academy.

The young, auburn-haired Viking had to stop several times, recalling his pictorial memory of this place to remember where the academy lay. He took several twists and turns, peeking along streets and crossing a large, clumsily-built bridge before he _finally_ descended towards what was definitely a fighting arena.

Tall pillars scratched the sky, wooden platforms curling around the circular construction, chains and metal clanking and steeling the sturdiness of the peculiar build. Flags were draped on poles here and there, swaying lackadaisically in the wind. He could already hear the cheer of a few solemn onlookers mixed with the defiant roar of a Gronckle and blasts of seething, antagonistic fire. There were grunts and calls, commands and shouts, most definitely Astrid's, as the teachings proceeded.

Hiccup took a slanting pathway up to the area where the audience ought to stand, trudging along the wooden planks and glancing through the tight net of worn chains and clasps.

Astrid indeed stood there, hand on her hip, as several men from the island of Looting Liars fidgeted agitatedly with shields and weapons, trying to distract the Gronckle and fight it off. They were struggling quite heftily, moving at a much too slow pace; _slower_, even, than that of the Gronckle.

Any _true_ connoisseur of dragons knew the Gronckle was speed-wise not the fastest. And quite sensitive to ruckus. Granted, most dragons were the latter, considering that their hearing was a lot more defined than that of a human.

"You have to find its blind spot, and attack then! Gronckles are _anything_ but merciful; they kill on sight with hot lava shots." Not all wrong, not all right, Hiccup mused with a smirk.

He continued to watch, a hand digging into his pocket and wrapping around a specific little substance. A quick glance at the watchers and he realised they were all Looting Liars. Seemed like training recruits was not much of an intriguing sight here on Berk. At least _something_ Hiccup agreed with, albeit for differing reasons.

Suddenly, the blonde Viking teacher grasped a shield, tumble-rolling around the Gronckle as she hammered her axe against the framed woodwork. Immediately the boulder class dragon became dazed, hovering around without coordination so that it was easy for her to smack her protection into his face and knock him flat to the ground. He lay there, injured and unconscious, as Astrid straightened herself.

Hiccup set his jaw firmly as he observed with keen eyes her grimace. The moment the metal of the shield came into contact with the reptile, causing its orbs to widen before they shut, he recognized a menacing, _hateful_ glare on the female's face. Something akin to a deep-rooted loathing, which rather unnerved him.

"Despite his lack of velocity, you need to be _fast_. With any dragon, really." She explained, handing out pointed stares at each student. She was disapproving of their meager skills, he knew.

Dragon raids used to not be as frequent on the island of Looting Liars. If they occurred, only few reptiles ever dared to attack; Hiccup only ever recalled _one_ Monstrous Nightmare in seven months, if at all. Mostly Terrible Terrors and Smothering Smokebreaths, the occasional Gronckle or Nadder, or a Hobblegrunt, which was too easy to shoo away, really.

Zipplebacks came by seldom and anything heftier than that even more so. Hiccup was astounded to discover that ever since a few months back, more and more frequent raids transpired. With them, larger, bolder dragons attacked; including an ample number of Deadly Nadders and Snaptrappers. Timberjacks were also no longer uncommon there.

Now that more mammoths decided to assault their minuscule home (at least, in comparison to Berk) and further dangerous kinds were around, they pleaded with the Hairy Hooligans to help them out; _their_ tribe lived in the most disadvantageous places of all – at a spot in the archipelago that allowed for perfect reptilian habitation possibilities, and a good source of food in form of a stubborn Viking tribe. Thus, most dragons invaded _here _rather than anywhere else, giving the citizens all the more reasons to be prepared.

Hence, the training at the arena went on like this every day. Hiccup would come by when he could, seeing his '_people' _struggle with Terrible Terrors as much as they did with Nadders. They had never been proficient fighters anyway, their peaceful nature not considered.

Gobber would occasionally join, laughing at their behaviour and pointing out the mistakes they made during battle. Hiccup believed it was the old man's way of teaching Hiccup the one or other useful thing without making it _seem _as such. The auburn-haired boy simply nodded, not responding in any audible form.

On the fourth day into training, where they were back to battling a teal coloured, beautiful Nadder in a makeshift maze made out of wood, Hiccup had enough.

His _men_ were struggling, Astrid was mocking them and acting all superior, throwing knowledge at their heads that, frankly speaking, was not _completely_ accurate. He would _love_ to see her face when he taught her the true assets of Nadders.

Just as the being twisted around a corner, spraying magnesium fire at its victims, it swung its tail, spikes swooshing ferociously in every direction. The trainees shouted, crashing into wooden walls and tumbling over each other.

"You have to be stealthy! You-" More desperate calls and clumsy staggering.

Suddenly, the Nadder had one man cornered in a dead-end, towering with a chirr above the poor fellow as it raised its tail and prepared the venomous quills.

Astrid's eyes widened and she was just about to jolt into the arena to give the Nadder (and the student, at that) a good lecture when an uncommon sight greeted her eyes – something she would not have deemed possible to happen anytime in the future, if at all. Something so unexpected it left her pondering and questioning if she had actually been awake then as she writhed in her cot, the hours getting darker.

Hiccup beat her to it; hurdling into the arena and landing right in front of the reptilian creature. Agitated, the Nadder ducked, ready to fire her missiles. Astrid's shock ten-folded, and she screamed out, "Hiccup!" (she had overheard his name being said by Fishlegs the other day; not that she was eavesdropping).

By Odin, she did not know what possessed her to call his name so miserably, as if she were worried for his well-being when, in reality, it was _obvious _this day would come. She just could not believe that he was actually as idiotic to ignite the fire of his death so naively himself.

Yet everything became silent, and stunning eyes were fixated on the boy. Spikes flew, wheezing through the air, punctuating whatever target their reached, but Hiccup stayed unharmed. He stood directly in front of the Deadly Nadder, watching amber eyes which bore into his, only meeting a steely determination. His hand flew into his pocket once more that week and he grasped a bout of stringy plant which he blew into the dragon's face.

Immediately, the reptile became dazed, wobbling on its two claws before it stumbled and crashed to the ground, immobile, yet unharmed still.

Everyone _gaped_. The few onlookers had muted, the man behind Hiccup was frozen stiff, the _others_ were listening to the silence, waiting for _something_ to happen that would inform them of what the Nadder was currently up to.

Astrid's heart jolted in shock, her eyes expanded even more. She forgot to breathe, paralysed to the spot, as her eyes focused onto the back of Hiccup's head.

Meanwhile said boy leaned forward, patting the dragon's snout, "Sorry, girl. You must have been quite scared with these imbeciles attacking you like infant Scuttleclaws." He shook his head in sympathy before he righted himself.

"What was that?" It was the Looting Liar Hiccup had just rescued that spoke up, oculars as ridiculously large as everyone else's.

"Ah, you know, Nadder's can't see you if you stand _right_ in front of them. So they can't hit you. But of course, your teacher knows that." He nodded with a smug smirk towards Astrid, whose mouth shut and opened several times like that of a fish. She was still gawking incredulously at him.

Deciding he had stolen the show for enough time, Hiccup kicked the nearby wooden wall, causing a domino effect as the entire labyrinth crashed into itself. Finally viewing the exit, he climbed above the constructions and left, returning to the safety of his burning forge.

* * *

><p>Dragon training ended a good hour ago, just as the sun met the horizon in a sweet kiss which burst into hundred shades of vermilion and amber.<p>

Hiccup devoured the sight with his eyes, feeling the all-too-familiar tingle of need in his stomach; need to feel blasting winds and piercing cold air on his skin, as well as the sensation of a dragon plummeting full speed towards the oceans like he were dying, just to spread his bat-like wings in the last second and catch the drift. More specifically, that of a _Night Fury_.

"He's waited long enough, and Gobber went to the hall, anyway." Hiccup doused the furnace, leaving embers to smoke defiantly as he left the forge and began his pathway up towards the forests.

The trek up Berk, with all its inhabitants preparing for the night and the beautiful colours the houses were now dipped in filled Hiccup with a strange sense of nostalgia he was not familiar with in the slightest. Not like he had really been home here...But something about the crunching grass beneath his feet as houses lit up with embracing flames and the outstretching oceans churned at their backs ignited a desire within him, as if it had been dormant, not inexistent, all these years.

Soon, he reached his rendezvous point, passing a few trees and halting at a tiny clearing which lay in the shadows at this time of day.

"Toothless?" He called out, trying to detect his scaly friend within the obscurity which currently presented itself to him, "Where are you, bud?"

There was a soft chunter somewhere to his left, and before he knew it, Toothless' large tongue glided across his upper torso and face, drenching him in sticky, gooey drool. Hiccup chortled, stepping back, "T-Toothless! Stop! You _know_ that does not wash out!"

A deep whine and he lowered his head, chartreuse eyes gleaming into Hiccup's own orbs. He held his jaw, pressing his forehead to that of the Night Fury, "Glad to see you too, bud. Let's head a bit deeper and then take flight."

He was about to climb onto the saddle on Toothless' back, setting the prosthetic and have his dragon continue before he sprang into the air when a sharp voice interrupted him.

"What are you _doing?"_

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><p><strong><em>AN: _**_Uh oh...who is THAT? Has someone now discovered Toothless? Yelp, what do you guys think will happen next chapter? Hiccup's reaction? How will it go? **REVIEW** AND GUESS! How do you feel? I'd love to hear, honestly, your reviews are the cherry on top of the cream on top of the ice-cream of writing. Honestly. I need it. At least a word or two, won't take long, promise!  
><em>


	6. Perspective

_**A/N: **You all have waited long enough. For anyone who is interested; I was actually not home. I don't know if I mentioned it before :P Now, finally being back, I am capable of working on this story again._

_So firstly, and most importantly: a **GREAT BIG THANK YOU** to all of you who have faved, alerted and **ESPECIALLY reviewed.** I do like to remind you that it warms my heart and is the the main reason I want to continue with this story; because you prove your appreciation through a word or two, maybe, if you want to bless me, with more. And I take the time each of you spend to heart, seriously. So please, keep it up, make me smile so I can make you smile too :)_

_Thus, hoping you all had a great Christmas (if you celebrate such) and a wonderful start into the new year: ENJOY THIS CHAPTER!_

_P.S.: Loved to read all your speculations on the "intruder" - some of you guessed right! Read on to find out ;)_**  
><strong>

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><p><strong><span>Perspectives<span>**

Hiccup froze completely; every organ and muscle in his body refusing to work. Toothless grew deadly still, too, large eyes forming slits.

The rider turned around with gradual, jittering movements, jade eyes searching in the gloom until they found a certain blonde Viking. She appeared anything but pleased; her eyes glowering, piercing his skin like indigo-dipped daggers.

Silence fell between them in which she gazed, rather sternly, not in shock, and he just waited for her to react towards the presence of Toothless. He expected a scream, an enlargement of the oculars, a stumble backwards; _anything_.

It did not come.

Instead, she continued with her disapproving scowl, arms crossed in front of her chest, "Are you practising or something? In the _dark_?" She frowned, lips turning into a sneer.

It dawned on Hiccup then that she could not actually _see_ Toothless within the obscurity of the forest. Being a Night Fury, he was concealed. Never had Hiccup been more glad for the lack of strength in human senses than _now;_ despite every childhood wish to hear, see and feel the world like a dragon.

"Oh, hey, Astrid! Hi, Astrid, hi...!" He bit his lips together, shaking his head innocently as he shrugged, "Erm..yeah! I-I was..training!" With his left palm, he pushed Toothless back, giving him a secret hand signal to sneak away before Astrid approached and actually _realised_ Hiccup was standing in front of a _Night_ _Fury._

He knew for sure that she did not know what one of them looked like, but still. Running risks now was unwise. He was evidently a _dragon,_ after all.

Toothless was anything but happy with the twist in events. To suddenly be driven back by his beloved rider just because some strange blonde approached; _ugh_. He knew though that there would be quite a tumult if he did not oblige, thus, with feline grace he slithered away and dashed through the forest.

"And who were you talking to?" She had an expression on her face as if she were observing two fish dressed like Vikings talking with each other.

"M-Myself!" He swung his arms leisurely, turning his body so that it now faced the warrior opposite of him. He internally sighed with relief when Toothless escaped unnoticed. Seemed the girl's sharp instincts were not _quite_ as acute as she made them out to be, during training.

"_Yourself?" _She took a step closer.

"Yeah...I...talk to myself to remind me...of my training...techniques." He swung his hand around in the air as he explained himself.

Irked, Astrid imitated the gesture, "Training techniques?" There was a hint of mockery in her tone.

Hiccup nodded, feeling more nervous as the minutes ticked by. He knew he was shovelling his own grave; _"What the Hel? Training techniques? For what? Seeing in the dark? Actually, that does not sound __**too**__ stupid."_

"Trying to hear it when dragons approach." Okay, that did not sound very intelligent, either.

Astrid shook her head, deciding she did not want to know what crazy antics this guy possessed, "Alright, well, that's not why I'm here."

The auburn-haired man nodded, awaiting for her to continue.

"_What_ the hell was that at the academy? With the Nadder?" She got closer to him, a hand now resting on her hip as she tilted her body, accentuating her curves within the light of the fading sun. Hiccup gulped audibly.

She looked so terribly alluring then; her emphasized, smooth curves, toned stomach and nimble limbs, as well as those plump lips, forming a critical sneer, eyes so bright the sun would get jealous. Blonde hair wound itself like a halo around her head, framing it's soft shape.

"O-Oh _that._..that was just...you know. Dragon training." Once more, he gesticulated with his hands, shrugging and fumbling on his feet.

"And where did you learn that?" She was evidently sceptical of his testimony.

"Just...by watching other tribes fight dragons." _Yikes_. He bit his tongue. _Other_ tribes?

Astrid must have read his thoughts, "_Other_ tribes?"

"Yeah, Skeggi used to take me around sometimes when he ran errands here and there."

"The blacksmith?"

Hiccup nodded meekly.

"Alright...I get that you are a rather strange person. You don't want to tell me exactly where you learnt that...that..._whatever_ it was you did at the academy. But heed my words, lanky boy," And finally she fully decreased the distance between their bodies as she raised herself on her toes to glance him in the face, stern and disapproving "I'm _watching_ you."

Widening her eyes to strengthen her declaration, pupils shrinking, Astrid stepped down, spinning on her heel and marching off in the most Viking of manners.

As her silhouette faded within the distance, Hiccup audibly sighed in relief.

"That went..._well_."

* * *

><p>Astrid's nerves were on the verge of exploding. She was sure they would shower the entire academy in her blood and boiling anger.<p>

Well, _was_ it anger?

The joke-of-a-Viking with his charming smirk and even more appealing complexions (forget you ever thought that, Astrid. That was just..._sarcasm_) stood there, his hand raised in front of him as he had the Gronckle wrapped around his tiny finger. Metaphorically speaking. It followed the hand, as if hypnotized, before falling to the ground, immobile.

He had been doing this all week long.

When she released the Terrible Terrors, two biting students into their noses, he had skipped to her side, stole her shield and knelt in front of the guys. Using the right angle of sunlight, he cast a shiny metal reflection onto the ground, guiding the creatures back into their cage.

When the Zippleback looked like it would shower Hiccup in gas and sparks, he pulled something long out of his leathery armour, dangling it in front of the being. Astrid could not exactly pinpoint what it had been due to the fog created by the Zippleback miasma; yet it caused the creature to hiss and cower backwards into its cage willingly.

Suddenly, Hiccup chucked a slimy fish at her feet; an eel.

"Eels. They don't like those." He nudged his nose towards said animal, before he left once more that day.

It had been pretty similar with the Hotburple, the Timberjack and even the Raincutter Astrid had so arduously captured not even five days ago during her beach treks. She had battled with everything she owned; trying to stay within the blind-spot, avoiding its attacks with athletic jolts and twists before she finally, _finally_ had it ensnared with her bolas and could drag it back to Berk.

And this, this _toothpick_ stood there, waving his hands like a maniac, stepping around the being with measured precision before it completely _surrendered_ to him. During their evening sessions at the Great Hall, where Fishlegs spread his knowledge about dragons proudly with the help of his beloved _Book Of Dragons_, Hiccup proved no less pain up the backside.

"Whispering Deaths always hunt underground" Fishlegs explained as the other warriors concentrated on the depictions of said dragon in the book, "They have many rows of razor sharp teeth and are extremely lethal. They have a great sight, too, for they can-"

"They don't." Hiccup interrupted, standing at the back of the hall, sliding across the surface of a piece of wood with a dagger.

Fishlegs ceased his talk abruptly, frowning at Hiccup, "I beg your pardon?"

Astrid, who was next to Fishlegs, frowned too.

He righted himself, stepping into the candle-light, "They have bad sight, actually. That's why they keep underground. They hate the light." He leaned over a fellow Looting Liar, pointing to the picture of a Whispering Death, "Use a shield, reflect the light of the sun, like with Terrible Terrors. But instead, direct it _onto _them. They'll hiss and fly away."

He smirked; mainly at Astrid, for he, and she _knew_ with certainty, enjoyed the fact that he astounded her with his unexpected, detailed knowledge.

She ground her teeth, growling in displeasure. Fishlegs was equally miffed, eyebrows furrowed as he leaned towards Astrid, "He seems like a know-it-all, doesn't he?" The boy uttered for only her ears to hear.

"Yeah...and I'm asking myself where he's got all the information from." She _really_ wanted to know.

Especially after the Changewing incident.

"Changewings can camouflage into the background, hiding them from human eyes. You won't see them coming as they sneak around silently. _And _they spit acid." Astrid elaborated before she opened the gate and released their invisible foe.

The fighters scrambled about nervously, raising their shield and weapons and glancing around with increased apprehension. Every hiss and grumble made them jolt into the air.

"He's there!" one called, stabbing his sword in said direction just to collide with solid rock.

"No, here!" an axe was swung and hit wood, embedding itself deeply so that it took the fellow several seconds to jerk it free.

Astrid sighed, shaking her head. After _everything_ they had taught them this passing fortnight, they _still_ acted like helpless beginners. What had their chief been thinking when he announced the Looting Liars to come and train amongst the Hooligans? Their progress was near to none.

A volley of acid soared through the air, sizzling and gnawing at a crate in the corner. The wannabe-warriors yelped, staggering along the arena.

"Oh my gods, we cannot _see_ them; how do we fight something like that!?" the one who had nearly been hit by the destructive fluids stuttered, arms shaking violently.

Astrid swirled her eyes. These Vikings trusted their sense of sight so much they would run off cliffs were they doomed to blindness. _Every_ Viking warrior of the Hairy Hooligan tribe had learnt to stand still and hark. The slightest chunter was a dead give-away to the exact location of a Changewing. These volatile, aggressive reptiles then only needed a harsh blow to their elongated skulls and they would be done for.

Just as Astrid was about to retort all too smugly, Hiccup interrupted once more. He had a bucket in his hand, moved over towards the centre of the arena, and halted. He stood painstakingly still, nonchalant eyes gazing at the ground. Then, suddenly, surprising even _her_, he jerked and chucked the content of the bucket to his right.

It had been yellow paint. The dragon that cowered on top of a large wooden wall was now partially doused in the sticky substance, shaking its scales vehemently. Yet the dripping paint was not coming off, and took away its advantage of invisibility.

Hiccup's hand dashed forward, the dragon hissed, Astrid's peripherals enlarged once more, as they now adapted to do these past two weeks. He touched the underside of the dragon's maw before it collapsed at his feet. Yellow fluids soaked the ground.

"W-Wow Hiccup! I didn't know you were so talented!" another Looting Liar now ventured towards the beast, clapping Hiccup on the back.

The irony of it all was that not even Hiccup's _fellow_ _Vikings_ knew of his skill; he was a mystery, even to them. It was somehow unsettling.

"One impressive lad, ey?" Gobber surprised her when he approached from behind, twisting his stone tooth, "Skeggi warned me 'bout 'im, though I didn' wanna believe it. Thought a lad like 'im couldn't be worth much. How deceiving looks can be." He laughed haughtily, shaking his head afterwards, "An' he has quite the fan-club now, too!"

Astrid scowled some more, glancing around only to realise that, indeed, there was a group of younger girls gathered near the audience-area of the arena, giggling and throwing appreciating glances down at the auburn-haired man. He seemed oblivious to their presence.

The woman recognized them as Hairy Hooligans.

"Seems like rumour has spread." She muttered.

"Indeed. Won't be long an' alla Berk will be 'ere to see 'im in action." Gobber grinned, "Who _would have thought?_" With that, he shrugged and left.

That was _it_, Astrid decided. He was no longer going to _humiliate_ her and all the other Berkians with his abstract skills and techniques whilst acting all mysterious and cunning about it. She would break through his secret once and for all; if he wanted to or not, was prepared or not.

Astrid was going to find out what cranky game this _Hiccup_ was playing.

* * *

><p>He exited the forge a handful of minutes before the dinner horn would resound through Berk. His hands were grimy with soot and dust, cuts decorating the tanned surface of his roughened skin. He scratched the scar underneath his lips as he trudged towards the hall.<p>

Astrid scowled. Had he _always_ missed his left leg? How come she never took notice of it until _now? _It was not something easily overseen, nor overheard, when metal clanked onto the ground and springs whined with movement. She guessed that due to the normality of Vikings missing a limb here and there that it was, in fact, a _rare_ sight to see anyone _without_ something lacking. Men and women with hook-hands or peg-legs were simply common on Berk. Still, now that her attention was focused on this lanky adult, things like these became a lot more noticeable.

She immediately questioned herself as to where he got the injury from; a dragon, most definitely, it was hardly anything else. Despite it all, she was sure that the story behind the loss of his leg withheld a more substantial, life-changing significance. Astrid wondered if, were she to ask, he would actually answer with honesty.

And that scar? A small, neat cut sliding halfway across his chin. Dark stubble gathered around the perimeter of it, causing the dead tissue to become all the more apparent. A laceration with a dagger, maybe? A stone having been chucked at his visage? A Nadder's quill only slicing by marginally?

Why did she have to speculate? What was it about this boy that had caused her to excoriate him so heavily since the first moment he decided to open his jaw and let mind-poking words exit on their own accord?

Astrid could not help it; within the last few weeks, Hiccup had gained her intrigue; he had secrets bouncing beyond natural Viking behaviour. He did not seem _Viking_ at all.

His auburn tufts of hair glimmered in the evening sun as he took large steps towards the Great Hall. She saw him there, occasionally, munching on food solemnly before leaving with silent steps. He never sat with his fellow citizens; never exchanged words with anyone or seemed in any way social. He kept to himself, his face a single puzzle of thoughts.

Maybe he was contemplating new dragon-fighting strategies; how to immobilize these beings with swift movements of his appendages, not needing to _touch_ them at all. How else he could embarrass Astrid in front of the masses of curious Vikings that now observed her training daily; earning himself equal amounts of zeal and confusion. Not even his own men were aware of how _talented_ he apparently was. What kind of Viking did not share effective battling tactics with his own peers? Was he not interested in the safety and well-being of his tribe?

Suddenly, something about being a fatherless child and coming from gods-know-where crossed her mind in form of Gobber's voice rattling at the back of her conscience.

Just as he was about to ascend the steps towards the bulky wooden doors, Astrid interjected. She came out of her hiding spot behind a large boulder and some bushes and stepped in front of Hiccup, effectively hindering him from continuing on his path.

"Oh, hi Astrid." His lips twitched upwards, forming a genuine smile that, for a millisecond, caught Astrid off-guard. She felt her peripherals straining, heat accumulating in her freckled cheeks and eyebrows darting upwards. The feeling was fleeting, however, and she relaxed quite speedily.

"I need to talk to you." She finally spoke, words harsh and cutting.

"Again? You seem to enjoy hearing my voice." His sarcasm was warming up, she could tell.

"Don't dare flirt with me, Toothpick, it doesn't work."

"I know." Holding up his hands in defeat, the boy stepped back, obviously unperturbed.

"Who taught you how to battle dragons like that?" No point beating around the bush. Her hands flew to her hips, giving her stance a slight fierceness.

"Erm...I told you, some other tribes..." Hiccup began to shrug his shoulders, hands slack against his hips.

"Then how did you lose your left leg?" She cocked an eyebrow as his own oculars grew in size. Smirk; he obviously had not expected such a direct question.

"I...just...it's personal, really." The boy began to scratch at his mop of chestnut hair.

"And the scar?"

He frowned in response, not knowing what she was on about. A swift finger was raised to slide over the white protrusion at his chin. The very curt incidence had instantaneous effects.

Hiccup froze, a spark of electricity jolting through his body and rattling his spine at the contact of warm, subtle skin on his own. _Never_ had he expected for Astrid to _initiate_ physical contact with him. It was something out of a daydream, really, and his mind went wild with all sorts of idiotic, wannabe scenarios.

For Astrid, the tickle of wispy, prickling hair and chiseled jaw on skin had something heart-quickening about it. She could hear the thrumming of her treacherous organ within her ribcage. Her head throbbed with the sound of her pulse.

She chastised herself internally; this was absurd. The touch of male flesh should not arouse her like that. Whenever she _touched_ anyone else this feeling never occurred; despite it being the first time she poked a guy's face. Excluding her father's.

"T-That? Ah, well, you see. It's just...an accident, really."

Her arched brow spoke the inquiry without words.

"Just..." and he decided it was a good time to flash his hands around, as per usual, "Me, a dagger, some practice and a lot of clumsiness." He lied efficiently, yet Astrid saw through it. Anyone else would shrug and accept the predication; but she was not anyone.

His eyes were flicking about restlessly, looking at anything but her. She knew the sheen of liquid coating his skin could be due to the smouldering work at the forge, but it could also be a tell-tale sign of nervousness.

"Why don't I believe you?" She uttered with a cold clarity, ending the sentence with a soft curl of the final word on her tongue.

Hiccup finally redirected his orbs towards her, inspecting their mesmerizing cerulean hue. She held that aquamarine gaze of his with a tightness, both battling for control and superiority within this conversation.

"I don't know, Astrid, why don't you?" His voice became hushed like hers. The girl wondered what pathetic, mind-deceiving game he was playing.

However, all he could think about was how menacingly _close_ she all of a sudden stood. Had she not noticed how she shuffled forwards with every term he stuttered? Her face was inches apart from his, soft locks of gold twisting over her right eye. Those lips were beckoning him again, just like in his fantasies, glistening with moisture. He imagined a scenario wherein he would swoop down and claim them, pinching their soft texture between his teeth. She would moan in response, of course, and not punch him a step closer towards death like in reality.

"What is it you are hiding?" Her voice was silken, despite all the anger and bluntness she talked with.

"I don't hide anything." Never had he been more thankful that no stutter escaped his mouth _this_ time round.

Another handful of silence ensued, both parties keeping the staring-contest alive and kicking.

The taller Viking fought back the urge to squirm, battling with himself that _no, _blushing now would _not_ be good. It would be _treacherous. _

Treacherous to himself, his ordeals interlaced with his ambitions, and to Tooth-

_Toothless!_

He hearkened, realising that he had forgotten to meet up with the scaly reptile like he usually did at this hour. Alright, gaping-time was over. He had to get away from Astrid.

"Look, I find it more than flattering that a wonderful personality such as yours has taken interest in my being, but I have places to be, and things to do. So if you would please excuse me?" He took a step around her body, ready to dart off into the hall before he would lose her in the masses, just to exit again silently and head towards their hideout (a _different_ one from their original meeting place. Astrid had discovered that one, after all).

"Where does someone like_ you _have to _be?" _She barked, confused all of a sudden.

Hiccup stiffened, "Well, I have hobbies too you know. Besides dragon...observing and stuff. See you." He darted up the stairs, cursing his prosthetic as it slowed him down.

Astrid spun with a glower, not believing her predicament. She jogged up the stone slabs herself, soon catching him near the entrance. Her hand grasped his shoulder, swivelling him towards her. Withal the sonorous chatter coursing through the room, she spoke as if they were still alone, standing at the bottom of the building where quietude reigned, "_Answer_ me, Hiccup!" She was anything but merry.

"I cannot hear you!" He responded, howbeit he could.

The taller Viking tried to pull himself away, wanting to continue deeper into the crowds but Astrid's grip was firm and relentless. Her scowl said it all.

"Astrid," and he suavely took her hand which was unwaveringly latched onto his shoulder into his, smiling his crooked smile at her. He felt nauseatingly nervous, but bit it back, "I really do appreciate your attention. Nothing is more complimenting than gaining the interest of an as astounding woman as you, but I don't have time." With that, he let her hand go and jogged away, lost between countless numbers of hulking Vikings.

The blonde's expression turned a horrifying shade of crimson, eyes bulging out of their sockets. Had he just...? Yes, he had. And then...? Oh gods, he _did_. The flustered, fluttering feeling inside her belly dispersed after a long moment of utter shock and twisted into raw, frothing rabidness.

The nerve...

_The nerve!_

Who did he _think_ he was!?

Well, that was exactly what Astrid was now adamant about revealing. No excuses taken.

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN:** Wahaa! Of course it was Astrid! Mind you, could've been anyone else. But don't we love Astrid and Hiccup interacting like this? ;D Astrid's perspective on Hiccup is gradually...well changing. And Hiccup is being as charming as ever, without really realising it. Nonetheless, Astrid is getting dangerously close to discovering his secret. That much I shall tell you. But what will happen then? Anyone want to guess what'll happen next? Astrid's next move, or if she will find out about Toothless yet, or not? And her reaction? Don't forget, this is TWENTY year old Astrid having grown up all different. In the same kind of scenario, what will her actions and responses be? TELL ME! I'd so love to hear, I really enjoy reading your reviews, it's the most fantastic thing, honestly. I grin like an idiot. So bless me please with some wonderful words from you, and I shall do my best to deliver the next update ASAP._

_UNTIL THEN!_


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